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bouncybongfairy · 7 months

Note

Hello! Could I request some dark smut with Lip? I can also be more specific if you'd like! No worries if you don't want to write it! Also I just found your blog and love your writing! 💕

Fucked Back Into Reality

Lip Gallagher x Fem Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Lip, hadn't talked to you in a couple of days. After having several conversations about this reoccuring problem, you decied to give him the cold shoulder. He reminds you why doing this is a riskey game.

Word Count: 2.0k+

TW: Rough Smut, Brat Kink, Masocism.

Ref Account: @kaionyx

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It’s a bitterly cold day in Chicago’s south side. The type of cold where everyone at school is more concerned about staying warm than fashion. You were walking to school, both your parents left for work before you woke up. The school was too close to home for bus services so walking was really the only option. After trying to get in touch with Lip for the past two days, you were now on strike from being nice to him. You weren’t ignorant, Lip had a lot going on at home which meant his undivided attention was rare. Sometimes you wished he would just shoot you a text like: hey super busy day, love you / shits been crazy, talk to you when i can. Having this conversation in the past, you weren’t going to bother having it again. It surprised you to see Lip sitting on the front steps of the school; early which he never was. You started walking up the steps, he stood up and flicked his cigarette bud into the snow.

“Hey,” he said, you just looked at him and kept walking to your locker.

“Oh come one, you’re ignoring me?” he asked, leaning up against the mental lockers as you emptied your things into the locker.

“Seems familiar doesn’t it,” you say, referencing him not reaching out for the past couple days.

“Yeah but mine was accidental not bratty,” he chuckled. Maybe it was because you haven't eaten or smoked that morning but that comment enraged you. Slamming your locker and walking toward first period, leaving him in the hall.

Just your luck to have chemistry as the first class of the day. The teacher took 20 minutes to calm the class down. Kids play fighting with each other or flirting in the back of the room. Groups of students in their cliques, not paying any mind to the instructions given. You felt bad for the teacher, I'm sure she thought an education career would help so many teens. Only to be placed in one of the most poorly funded schools in the state. You didn’t feel too bad though, it only meant less work for you. Lip liked the fact that you cared about your grades, that you had a plan after highschool. As stupid as Lip was acting, you also liked how smart he was. You complained about it alot but you liked how he didn’t fall for your little tricks and games. He doesn’t chase you, or let you push him over. Most guys were just so emotionally unintelligent, not to mention Lip was more mature when it came to sex. The last couple guys you were with didn’t even talk while you fucked. Didn’t know what foreplay was or understand a woman's body. Lip had a really good understanding of when to be gentle or rough. When he would whisper things in your ear it always felt so natural and smooth. There were times when your stomach would randomly flip when thinking about the nasty things he’d told or done to you. Maybe part of the reason you had some animosity towards Lip was because you had been sexually frustrated. For the past couple weeks you felt like you were practically throwing yourself at him and he wasn’t in the mood. Of course you respected that, you just missed him was all; maybe a specific part of him. At lunch he came up to you from behind and hugged you. Still feeling quite stubborn, you allowed it but acted like you didn’t care.

“You still mad?” he whispers into your ear which makes your skin break out with goosebumps. He slides his hands down from your waist to your hips.

“I know we haven’t talked but I’m here now, let’s ditch for the rest of the day,” he said, pressing his lips against your neck. As much as you wanted to give in and agree, you still wanted to make a point. Pushing his hands away, you grab your backpack and walk away without acknowledging him. If he wanted to brand you as a brat then you’d give him his money's worth.

It was the last period, and everyone was waiting for the bell to ring. Some kids just left when they were ready and the teacher didn’t care. He just sat there, staring with cold dead eyes at his computer. Daren was consistently trying his best to spark conversation with you, all he talked about was how he ran track but he was trying his best. The heaters were blasting inside the school because it was snowing. The classroom windows were wet with condensation which made you feel sticky. Becoming overstimulated you decide to leave early, excusing yourself and walking out. Daren followed you into the hallway,

“Hey I was wondering if you wanted to stay after school and watch me practice? Maybe I can take you out after, or something?” he asks.

“Oh sorry I can't. I actually have a ton of homework so, maybe next time?” you say walking away, happy that you’re avoiding the rush of people flooding out the front gates.

Normally Lip would walk you home but you didn’t see him. Your willpower that was fueling your grudge was weakening. Pulling your phone out of your pocket and seeing if he texted you; he didn’t. Looking back you were feeling silly about your actions because look where they led you. It was really cold, snow sticking to your hair and eyelashes. Once you finally got home, Lip was waiting on the porch which took you by surprise. You went to greet him, this is when you noticed he looked angry. He didn’t even say anything to you, even after opening the door and letting the both of you in.

“How’s Daren?” he asks, once you both get to your bedroom.

“What?” you asked confused.

“Well you talked to him all last period and even after you left,” he said, sitting on your bed and lighting a cig.

“Okay first of all, I only talk to him for like two seconds. He asked me to watch him practice and I said no,” you defend yourself.

“That’s two seconds more than you talked to me today,” he remarked.

“Lip that’s not even fair,” you say, which made him smirk and shake his head as he took a drag.

“Do you even hear yourself? ‘tHat’s nOt fAiR’ whining like a baby who didn’t get their way. Why were you so offended that I called you a brat even though you’re acting just like one,” he said.

“What are you trying to scare me?” you ask while laughing.

“Trying?” he asked rhetorically.

You rolled your eyes and started to change into comfortable clothes. While you were only in your bra and underwear, Lip came behind you and ripped the lace material of the panties. You gasp and go to turn around but he presses you against the closet door. Intertwining his hand into your hair, gripping it so tight strands of hair were being pulled out. His dick was extremely hard and feeling it pressed against your ass immediately excited you. Moving your head slightly so he can start kissing and biting your neck. His breathing was hard and with his chest pressed against your back, you could feel his heartbeat. As he marked your neck, whimpers and moans were escaping your mouth.

“Since you were feeling so brave today let’s hope you keep that energy,” he growled into your ear.

“You gonna try and teach me a lesson?” you asked with a patronizing tone.

He chuckled and led you to the bed by your hair. Your heart was racing, your sexlife was by no means bland however, this was the first time he was this rough. It felt like the two of you were breaking the rules or something. Like discovering new and daunting territories. He reached his hand down and started feeling you through the hole in your panties he made. He let out a moan once he felt how wet you were.

“You are such a fucking slut, good to know being put in your place is all it takes for you to soak your panties,” he said, letting go of your hair.

He sat up onto his knees, instead of fully stripping his clothes, he just pulled his dick out of his zipper. Rubbing the tip against your pussy. Your chest was pressed against the mattress but your ass was pressed against his shaft. You start to rock your hips back and forth against him but he starts spanking his hands against your ass. The pain was so bad it burned, you thought he’d stop after a couple times but he kept going. Wanting to show you were handling the smacks, you try your best to take them without complaint. He was unrelenting and you finally begin to squirm away, which seemed to humor him,

“The more you fight and squirm, the more I wanna fuck you,” he said, running his nails down your now bright red ass.

“Fuck just do it already then,” you whine, in response he spits at your face.

“Cum slut’s don’t speak unless spoken to,” he said, pushing himself into your twitching and leaking pussy.

The feeling was enough to make your eyes roll back. After weeks of Lip blue-balling you, the sensation of being filled by him was pure bliss. He was going at a painfully slow rate, pulling himself fully in and out of you after every thrust. As pleasurable as it was, you’d do anything to get him to speed up. Unable to rock your own hips, you kick your feet a little in protest. This made him laugh and slow down even further. He grabbed your wrists and pressed them against your lower back, taking full control of your body. You were dripping down both thighs and tears pooled in your eyes. You were at your limit with his teasing, tightly clenching around him. He pulled out and flipped you onto your back, feeling too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Tears had stained your cheeks and your hair was in complete disarray from being yanked and pulled. He crawled on top of you and started pushing his tip in and out. You were bucking your hips up, tears coming back as he teased relentlessly.

“You’re sensitive here? Perfect spot to abuse huh?” he asked sarcastically, using one hand to smack his cock against your pussy.

In your own little world, trying to cum with what little friction he was giving you. He finally stops and instead wraps his hands around your neck. Then starts pounding into you, slowly tightening his grip over time. You were feeling dizzy and foggy, letting out a moan every time his length fully pressed into you. He was grunting and groaning, a couple beads of sweat dropping onto the bed from how much he was exerting himself. The closer you got to your orgasm the tighter his grip on your throat became. Your face was bright red and a wheezing sound came out of your mouth with every inhale. He seemed to be hummored by this and started to mock you.

“Can’t breathe? Good,” he chuckled.

The mixture of degradation and the fast paced abuse on your cunt was enough to send you over the edge. Shockwaves of pure pleasure began to ripple throughout your body. Legs trembling and eyes rolling back. He was chasing his own climax, seeing and feeling you cum around his cock was enough for him. Rutting into you with no regard for you, as if you were nothing but a toy for him. Seeing how he turned you into such a slutty mess made him feel feral. It wasn’t until he was fully finished that he removed his hands from your neck. After a small coughing fit, you began to come too. Lip was already up, using his shirt to clean you up. Pulling your hair out of your face and into a messy bun. You were half dead, completely exhausted and worn down. He laid down next to you, rubbing your back and whispering affirmations into your ear. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to be as close to him as you could.

“I’m glad I could fuck the attitude out of you,” he said, as you fell asleep.

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bellaveux · 1 year

Text

BETWEEN THE PAGES | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

genre: college au! fluff, smut

summary: professor maximoff asks you out on a date.

content warnings: MINORS DNI! fluff, smut, college au!, unspecified age gap, professor!wanda, student!reader, bit of alcohol consumption, smut; service top!wanda, power bottom!reader kinda, making out, marking, fingering and oral (r! receiving), overstimulation, little bit of a praise kink

word count: 9.5k

note: i’ve been meaning to write another professor!wanda and black cat!reader fic so wrote this as kind of a prequel to AFTER CLASS but it’s long overdue lol. i hope u like it!

You always came to class early. That was the first thing she noticed about you. But, there was something about the way you entered her lecture hall for the first time, sitting just a few rows away from her desk, close enough for her to see you without anyone getting in the way. It was something about you that was so endearing. She just couldn’t figure out what exactly it was about you that made her stomach flutter and her heart beat faster than it typically does. Usually dressed in a skirt that gracefully swayed with each step and a cozy sweater that hugged your figure, you never failed to greet her with a shy smile each day you entered the room, and each time she swooned. Too cute. It was like that for the first few months: watching the door patiently to see when you would walk in, stealing glances your way when you were seated in front of her as she taught, or occasionally looking over the book she was reading while you were taking a test, reading a book, or working on notes. She couldn’t help it. It also didn’t help that you were not only beautiful but smart, too. Every test, assignment, and project she had given out, you nailed them with ease, almost like you'd already mastered the subject prior to her teachings. Perfect was what you were. She thought about it every day.

As each day passed, Wanda always looked forward to the days when you would enter her class. And she wasn’t trying to be a creep about it in any way, but she couldn’t help but look… and wonder. She wondered about what you were like outside of her class, if you were just as reserved and quiet as you were in here or if you were bubbly and talked a lot, and what your voice sounded like. You were quiet. And it wasn’t a quality that she didn’t like at all; in fact, it only made her more intrigued, like you were a mystery that she wanted to solve. In the quiet moments, when the world slowed down, her thoughts would invariably drift to you—your earnest gaze, your subtle smiles, the way your eyes seemed to light up the room.

But despite the elation of her thoughts of you, she makes sure to remind herself why you were here in the first place: you were her student. And for your professor to have such thoughts about one of her students, it was wrong. She knew this from the beginning. But try as she might to suppress her emotions, Wanda found herself captivated by your presence anyway.

And she really tried, to be fair. She tried to ignore her thoughts of you in her head, but she could only do so much. In the end, she couldn’t resist asking you to meet her after class during her office hours. She’d try multiple times to find the most credible excuse to get you to stay, and usually, she’d opt for subjects regarding your work and even ask you if you were interested in being a teacher’s assistant. Who in their right mind would decline that offer? You’d get paid on top of being alone in the same room with your favorite professor—the, despite her intimidating looks, easygoing professor that you had been fond of since day one. In fact, everyone liked her. Most of the students thought she was hot anyway, which you had to agree on as well.

The work she had you do was simple, for the most part. Grading papers and organizing paperwork and files for her were the most common tasks she gave you. Eventually she had you read a few essays and reports, asking you to judge how well they were written. Wanda thought of it as a learning experience—to read, collect your thoughts, elaborate, and then discuss with you on that same subject. It was a little nerve-racking, to say the least, but really, you enjoyed every second you spent with this professor. Especially since she was so nice to you.

And you’d be lying if you said you had never noticed her lingering eyes on you on several occasions. Sometimes she stands behind your seat and leans over to see your assignments, and you can smell her sweet perfume and feel her breath against the top of your head. Then, you’d be lying a second time if you said it didn’t make your stomach flutter each time she got close to you.

Of course, with the quiet moments you shared together each week, you began to notice some things you'd never noticed before: how she's unable to get to work without a hot cup of tea using that old, faded, and chipped mug that the university gave her a couple years ago, how she spends an extra few minutes in her office at the end of each day because she always misplaces her ID card, or how she constantly has her nose stuck in a book—a poetry book you’d often see, when she wasn’t reading those one of those meaty, mind-bending volumes.

And as time went by, you also began to notice more and more the way she would look at you. It wasn’t as if you were completely oblivious to her stares. You could see clearly when her eyes would linger a little longer than necessary, occasionally catching the flicker of a smile that your professor seemed to suppress. It was as if you had developed a sixth sense for each time her demeanor shifted or her eyes would trace over you, just as she was doing now.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" You say, your voice coming out smoothly, cutting through the quietness that filled the room.

"Yes, I’m fine." Wanda cleared her throat and turned away from you, her eyes darting back to the book she was supposedly reading. "It’s, um... I’m just lost in my thoughts."

"Lost in your thoughts or lost in trying not to stare too obviously?"

Your professor’s eyebrows twitched upwards, your question pinking her cheeks as she turned the page of her book mindlessly while attempting to hide her smile. "I assure you, (Y/n). This book is… intense."

"Intense?" You rolled your eyes, not entirely convinced by her excuse, as your eyes traced the cover of her book. "Hmmm, The Book of Nature… William Wordsworth?"

Wanda skimmed through the pages of her book and cleared her throat for the second time, "It's a deep exploration of... um, philosophical concepts. Quite thought-provoking, really."

"Philosophical concepts?" You repeated with a sly smile playing lightly at your lips. "Are you sure that’s what it’s about? If I remember correctly, Wordsworth is a poet, right? And you look pretty relaxed for someone who’s reading about some intense philosophical poetry."

"Well, I think philosophical debates can be strangely soothing sometimes," she told you with a chuckle, slowly making her way out of the nervous state she was in just a moment ago.

"Really? I mean, I love poetry, but that’s quite the intellectual balance you’ve got there."

"Yeah," she breathed, her confidence seemingly flowing from her body right in front of your eyes as she used a finger to adjust the collar of her button-up. "And speaking of balance, how do you manage to keep your work in check while being so captivatingly distracting?"

The blush that paints your cheeks presents itself much more quickly than you could’ve imagined. It was adorable. Managing to turn away from her this time, you avoid her eyes as yours land back down on the papers that were set in front of you, completely forgotten while being under your professor’s gaze. You could practically feel the smile on her face as she watched your every movement. Wanda pulled her office chair closer to yours, where you had brought an extra chair up to her desk as you worked. She set her book down softly, mindlessly leaning in closer and closer to your face as her eyes kept darting between your eyes and those delicious-looking lips of yours. Her tongue dragged itself along the bottom of her lip subconsciously as she stared at you, not even hiding her intentions this time.

"You make it awfully hard to concentrate, (Y/n)," she continued as her eyes traced over the contours of your face, down to the skin of your neck as it strained slightly underneath the collar of your sweater. "I find it rather difficult to stay focused when you’re sitting in front of me."

"Um, Professor… I think we should…" With a flustered smile and stern eyes, you motioned over to the clock right by the door, notifying her that her time with you was nearly up.

Wanda only smiled before speaking again, nodding her head as she leaned back slowly to glance over to check the time, "Of course. Do carry on with your student duties, Miss (L/n)."

To be honest, it’s the first time she has heard you talk so much. Your voice was delicate and smooth, a voice that she wanted to keep hearing over and over again. Talking to you was something she wanted more of. She was quite smug, thinking about how all the rest of the students who admired you for your intelligence and work ethic didn’t get to talk with you as much as she did or spend time with you as much as she did.

A triumphant warmth spread through Wanda's chest as she turned back to read her book. Successfully making you flustered had ignited a sense of giddiness she hadn't felt in a while. But, a calm smile played on her lips, a facade she effortlessly maintained to match your demeanor, masking the happiness that bubbled within her. It’s evident throughout the days, where fragments of her infatuation for you are sprinkled into every moment you spend together. In those moments, she loved everything about you—from the way you worked and focused on your tasks, to the way your voice sounded despite not talking all that much, to the way you furrowed your eyebrows when your eyes stumbled upon something that confused you, or when your lips would curve into that pretty smile she loved to see so much.

Eventually, Wanda came to terms with her feelings rather quickly, but made no move to pursue them just yet. For you to be her lover was something that was not allowed, especially in her profession. She’d also still have to tackle the subject of whether or not you harbored even the slightest similarity about whether you had the same interest as she did for you. During moments where she would sit alone in her office or at home, she’d often let her mind drift off to the thought of you and how she would treat you if she were able to call you hers. Gifts like flowers, books, or jewelry would gladly be given as attempts to make you happy. She’d give you flowers every day if it allowed her to see that smile of yours for even just one second.

The two of you spend the rest of the semester filled with mindless flirting and grading essays, projects, and assignments, all while Wanda reads most of the time, and by reading, you mean she skims over a couple pages and spends the next few minutes admiring the beauty that is you before her. And sometimes, she lets her mind wander just as her eyes do, down to the skin of your thighs underneath those black tights, wondering how it would feel to have her hands all over your legs. She wonders how you would sound, moaning her name as you give her the sweet taste of heaven. If you hadn't been so engrossed in the activity your mind was occupied with, you'd see how her eyes latch to your frame and the way her mouth waters at the sight. It takes everything in her to keep her composure and not pull you into her private office and have her way with you.

She wants to do this correctly, of course. She wants you to want it, too. Though, it may seem like you return her advances and all the rest of her flirty remarks, she wants to make sure it’s something you are sure of.

So, she asks. And she starts by giving you a gift.

"Shakespeare?" You questioned curiously, running a finger along the spine of the book as a shy smile slowly etched its way onto your face. "I didn’t really take you for a romantic, Professor."

She had given you a gift before you were able to step away so soon from her and her class room. The book—The Sonnets by William Shakespeare—rested neatly in the palm of your hand as Wanda watched you inspect it with eager curiosity. You had mentioned your love of poetry once, and with her own collection sitting in the comfort of her own home, she decided to give you one of the books that she loved so much. It was romantic and a tad bit cliché, she’d have to admit, but to make you happy just as you did for her was the only thing she wanted from this.

Wanda brought a hand up to scratch the back of her neck, her eyes darting down to the book in your hand, "Well, I-I appreciate the beauty in romance, yes."

"Thank you for this. I’ll make sure to read it over break," you say, holding the book tightly between your chest and your arm before turning to make your way out of the door. "See you next semester."

Wanda had pondered it, thinking how long the two weeks of winter break would feel with you away from her. The weekends already felt like too long of a wait before Monday came around—the first day of each week when you stepped foot in her class. She looked forward to every day because of you and loved thinking about you on the weekends, then she’d repeat it all over again. But, two weeks. Two whole weeks without seeing that pretty face of yours or hearing that quiet, pretty voice of yours—it sounded dreadful.

"(Y/n)?" She called out to you before you could step out of her empty lecture hall. "Can you stay for a bit? I have something to ask."

She asked you out to dinner in the next few minutes after going on a quite adorable ramble about her being so enamored by you that she couldn’t help but ignore her own boundaries as your professor and ask you out on a date. She was confident but, at the same time, so anxious to hear what you had to say about it. The stare you gave her after her little speech was enough to make her want to dig a hole so deep into the earth and crawl into it so that she’d never be able to see the light of embarrassment. Wanda watched as you clutched the book she gave you tightly in your arms. By this point, she was so sure you’d turn her down given how long you were taking to answer.

Of course, when you answered, she couldn’t process it correctly for the first few seconds, but as soon as she did, her eyes lit up just as brightly as the sun on a clear day. The smile she was biting back was contagious, making you roll your eyes and smile back as she fought the urge to wrap her arms around you. And for a moment, you even thought as if you could imagine a tail wagging back and forth behind her in excitement. You both agreed on next Friday night at eight in the evening, when she would pick you up, take you out to a nice restaurant, and treat you like a queen. You deserved a lovely evening out, and Wanda couldn’t wait to share it with you.

As she went about her daily tasks leading up to that Friday, an uncontainable excitement welled up within her, and she couldn't help but steal moments to envision the evening ahead, leaning back in her office chair to imagine the upcoming night with a dreamy smile on her face, the prospect of sharing dinner and conversation with you filling her mind. Her heart raced with anticipation, wondering what you’d wear on that night, wondering how even prettier you would seem so close next to her, wondering how your hand would fit in hers, and wondering if you’d let her steal a kiss or two, or maybe, if she was lucky, even more. And god, she prayed for all of the luck to be on her side for even just one night.

When Friday came, Wanda rushed home from her office at the university to get ready before she would drive to pick you up at the address you had emailed her—she forgot to ask where you lived, but before she could ask, you had emailed her your address a couple hours earlier. She smiled at the thought, being so excited for the date that she forgot to ask one of the most important questions. Wanda settled on wearing an all-black suit, one of her favorites, and made sure to smooth out every wrinkle with a precise touch, each movement revealing the anticipation bubbling beneath her calm exterior. She knew that your choice of attire was a mystery, and her all-black ensemble was a versatile canvas, ready to complement whatever you had in mind.

But, fuck, when she saw you—God, she was just in pure awe at the sight of you.

Wanda arrived a little bit early, the anticipation of your dinner date bubbling within her. She parked her car outside of your apartment building and leaned against it, one foot casually crossing over the other. She glanced at her watch, checking the time, but her heart raced with a different kind of countdown. As the moments passed, Wanda’s excitement only grew. But when you finally emerged from the building, the sight that greeted Wanda left her speechless. The dress you wore wrapped around your frame perfectly, the silky fabric resting on your soft curves, along with a daring slit that ran up your thigh, revealing a glimpse of your leg with each step you took, and it drove her absolutely crazy. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as she gazed at you; the sight of your shy smile made her heart race even faster.

Fuck, she wanted to say. And for a moment, she struggled to find her words, but not less than a second later, she managed to regain her composure, a smitten grin forming on her lips, "You look beautiful, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Professor," you replied, smiling innocently up into her eyes in a way that drove her insane. "You’re looking pretty amazing as well."

Wanda couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at your compliment, but she was still spellbound by the stunning vision before her. She offered her arm to you and walked with you towards the car, opening the car door for you. But, she couldn't shake the image of that tantalizing slit in your dress; the glimpse of your leg driving her senses into overdrive.

Throughout the night, Wanda found it nearly impossible to tear her gaze away from that slit in your dress. The subtle but alluring glimpse of your skin had cast a spell on her, igniting a fire of desire and fascination that she struggled to contain. Each moment she spent with you, Wanda's mind wandered, and she’d stumble on her words as she spoke, all because of her thoughts returning again and again to the sight that had driven her senses wild earlier. She couldn't help but steal glances at that tantalizing slit in your dress whenever you shifted or crossed your legs, her heart racing each time her eyes traced the path upward. And every now and then, you would catch Wanda's lingering gaze, a knowing smile playing on your lips. You seemed to relish the effect your attire had on your professor, your confidence growing as the evening progressed.

The date was going splendidly, with you and Wanda engaging in lively conversations, sharing stories, and relishing each other's company. You laughed together, savored delicious meals, and exchanged meaningful glances that hinted at your growing connection. Both of you were having a great time, enjoying the chemistry and camaraderie that seemed to come so naturally. However, your dress, still with its tantalizing slit, had become a magnetic force that Wanda found impossible to resist. It was as if her mind had been spellbound, repeatedly drawn back to that alluring detail with every glance in your direction. While you spoke passionately about your love for literature and your dreams, Wanda tried her best to maintain eye contact and stay engaged in the conversation. But time and again, her gaze would wander, trailing along the path of that tempting slit.

She stared all night, wondering what it would feel like to run her fingertips against your soft skin, wondering how you’d look when you slip out of your dress slowly, wondering how you’d sound—and the precious imagery alone caused all higher brain function to abandon her.

As the night continued, Wanda couldn't help but feel overwhelming happiness. Your presence was intoxicating, and your smile was a beacon that lit up the evening. It was a feeling she had longed for—the joy of being in the company of someone who not only understood her intellectually but also stirred something deeper within her. You were perfect. So perfect. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. Wanda was proud to have even come this far with you and wondered if you’d allow her the chance to take you out for a second time. She would be glad, too. God, she prayed you’d want to.

Dinner ended sooner than both of you would have liked. Wanda found herself lost in the sight of you the whole night, wishing she could linger in the moment a little while longer. And the idea of taking you home felt like an interruption to a masterpiece still in progress. She held your hand as she walked with you slowly down the path back to her car, which was parked a few ways away for this very reason.

But there was one thing Wanda couldn’t get off of her mind as she led you inside her car and started the drive back to your apartment—your lips. She wanted so badly, more than anything, to kiss you. Those lips that had been speaking to her for the entire night—she wanted to taste them and feel them against hers. With every passing streetlight, the desire to lean over and capture your lips at every red light only grew stronger. Her heart raced, and her fingers gripped the steering wheel every time she thought about it. The desire to taste the sweetness of your lips was undeniable. Yet, she hesitated. The night had been so perfect, and she didn't want to rush things.

"Thank you for tonight, Professor," you softly as soon as the car came to a slow stop in front of your building. "I had a wonderful time."

"Well, it’s not every day I get to have dinner with someone as beautiful as you," Wanda said, turning her head to face you as her hand gripped the steering wheel.

"You really know how to lay it on thick, don't you, Professor?" You rolled your eyes, trying to fight back the laugh that almost spilled from your mouth.

Wanda grinned from ear to ear and glanced at the street in front of her for only a moment, "I mean, only when it’s the truth—"

Mid-sentence, just as Wanda spoke, you leaned in and planted a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek, maybe a tad bit close to the corner of her lips. It was a sudden, tender gesture that caught Wanda completely off guard, making her grip tighten around the gear shift of the car. Then, you gently place your soft hand on top of hers, causing her vision to go hazy with clouds of lust, devotion, and affection. You don’t miss the way her ears turned red as you pulled away from her face.

Eventually, Wanda found her voice, though it was tinged with surprise as she stammered out, "Well, that was... unexpected."

In her mind, truthfully, she wanted to ask you to do it again and again and again. Maybe she’d ask for you to kiss her lips next time, but she’d never let you go off to do anything else.

"I think you’re too much of a flatterer," you chuckled softly, your fingers gently tracing the outline of Wanda's hand on the center console. "Do you say that to all of your students, Professor?"

Still slightly stunned from the tiny kiss, Wanda turned to face you. Her usual composure had been momentarily shattered by the feeling of your lips against her skin, and she met your eyes with a genuine, heartfelt sincerity, "No… just you."

The words slipped out of her mouth, unfiltered and genuine, carrying with them the depth of her feelings. In that moment, Wanda realized that her attraction to you was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It wasn't just casual flirting with someone who she thought was pretty, as she did in the beginning; it was something deeper, something that had taken her by surprise the longer she had gotten to know you. Wanda's heart continued to race as she watched your playful expression soften, replaced by a warm and genuine smile.

"Do you want to come in, Professor?"

Wanda, still feeling the electrifying effects of the way your lips felt, faltered once more. The idea of spending more time with you was undeniably tempting, but she knew that if she continued this evening further, it would require every ounce of her self-control. Her hands ached to touch you, to run them along your waist and hips, and she longed to press her lips against yours over and over again. The dress you wore was not much help either; her eyes were always glancing down to that slit that showed off the soft skin of your leg. In her mind, a hundred affirmations echoed, each one urging her to say yes. So, she did.

You led her towards your apartment, hand in hand, walking down the softly lit halls of the building in a happy, expectant silence. Although she tried to hide it, Wanda could feel her own excitement building to an almost unbearable level. Her heart raced, and her breaths came a touch quicker as you led her to your place, the feeling of your hand in hers setting her skin on fire. When you reached the door, you fumbled for your keys with one hand, your other still firmly clasped with Wanda's. Your movements were deliberate, yet there was an undeniable excitement radiating from you, a subtle telltale sign that you, too, were looking forward to what lay ahead.

A sense of comfort washed over Wanda as she stepped inside, the atmosphere of your warm apartment enveloping her as she followed you in. She watched your hips as you walked in front of her, her cheeks and ears reddening at the sight once more. Your space was also thoughtfully decorated, exuding a lived-in charm that made it feel like home.

"I’m sorry about the mess. It’s usually tidier, I promise," you tell her, placing your bag gently on the counter in the kitchen before turning back to look at her. "I honestly wasn’t planning on inviting you in yet, but… I don’t know; I guess I couldn’t help myself."

Wanda, however, didn't seem the least bit bothered. Her warm smile remained unwavering, and she looked around with genuine appreciation. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her hands now stuffed into the pockets of her pants, coolly leaning against the wall, "No, I don’t mind it. And it’s not messy at all. It’s a lovely home."

Her eyes roamed over your cozy living room with its soft, inviting couch, adorned with a few well-placed cushions. The warm glow of dimmed lamps bathed the room in a soft, comforting light. Bookshelves lined one wall, their shelves cradling an eclectic collection of literature, each book seeming to hold a story of its own. The scent of a vanilla-scented candle lingered in the air. It was a cozy, lived-in scent that made Wanda feel instantly at ease—a reflection of you and everything you loved. And on your coffee table, amidst your own collection of books, she saw the one she had given you. It lay there, open and well-loved, with pages slightly ruffled and a bookmark placed near the end. In no way would Wanda have minded the mess at all, not when she was surrounded by the tokens of you and your life.

"I’m almost done with it," Wanda heard you say as she looked around your apartment. "The sonnets are really beautiful. I think I’m enjoying it better than his plays."

The professor raised an eyebrow at your claim, "Bold statement, (Y/n)… But I’m glad you’re enjoying it."

You smiled at her as you moved to get two glasses and a bottle of wine that you’ve been saving for special occasions, and this was definitely one of them. But when you turned to look back at Wanda, her gaze, once warm and affectionate, had intensified with desire and lust as she watched you pour the wine into the glasses. Her eyes held an unmistakable hunger, as if you were the most captivating thing in the world, and it didn't go unnoticed. Wanda's stare was so intense and filled with longing that it seemed to sear through you like a fiery caress. It made your heart race, and your breaths quickened as you tried to maintain your composure. With that look in your eye, you knew this night was about to get even more special.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there, Professor?" You asked with a smirk that made Wanda weak in her knees.

Wanda shook her head and bit her lip, her cheeks reddening at the topic of her own thoughts. She made her way towards you as you slowly lifted the wine glass to your lips. And although you were occasionally flustered by her intense gaze, you had a reputation for your own brand of composed charm. Wanda approached the counter where the wine glasses were placed, her fingers lightly caressing the stem of a glass as she lifted it herself. Her movements were fluid and sensual, drawing your attention like a moth to a flame. But this time, when she turned to face you, she found herself locked in a gaze that mirrored her own desire. Your eyes held a magnetic allure, an intensity that matched Wanda's in every way—your look was a silent challenge, a dare to see who would break first.

You brought the wineglass to your lips, and the woman in front of you watched with a heightened sense of awareness, her gaze locked onto the way your lips delicately touched the rim of the glass. Your soft and inviting lips seemed to beckon Wanda like an irresistible temptation. They glistened with the remnants of the wine, and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to taste those lips and feel their softness against her own. She wondered how your lips would feel, how they would respond to her touch, and how you’d moan into her mouth. And she couldn’t get her mind off of it.

"Professor," you spoke, setting your glass down on the counter before stepping close in front of her. "I think… you’re thinking too much."

Wanda’s anticipation was palpable, and she held her breath as you closed the distance between the two of you, her heart pounding in her chest. As you stood so close, your breaths nearly mingling, you sensed that she was still overthinking the moment. And finally, in a bold move, your hands reached out, gently tugging on her suit jacket, pulling her even closer. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down her spine as your lips met hers in a deep kiss. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as your lips met hers, and she melted into the kiss with a soft groan, moaning at the sweetness of your lips that she had been waiting all night to feel.

You led her to your bedroom with your lips never leaving hers and your arm around her neck while your other hand pulled her jacket roughly off her shoulders. A laugh bubbles against your mouth as you trip over the rug on the way to your room, but Wanda catches you with a chuckle, her hands at your waist holding you against her. Your lips fit so perfectly against hers, and the taste of you on her tongue unlocked all of the desires she had been trying to keep at bay. All she could think about was you. Mere seconds have gone by when your back finally meets the soft comfort of your bed, all while Wanda explores your mouth with her tongue. She indulges herself in the taste of you and tugs desperately at your dress, just as you tried to undo her belt, albeit poorly. The gasp you let out when Wanda moved her head down to your neck, sucking, licking, and nipping at your sensitive skin, distracted you from your current task, leaving her belt loosely unbuckled.

"Mmh, Professor…" Your bedroom was painted with your needy moans and Wanda’s soft grunts as she pressed herself against you, your body pressed in between her and the mattress.

"Wanda," she murmured into your neck, leaving marks on your skin as her mouth explored. "You can call me Wanda… Please."

You smiled and ran your hand through her hair, urging her to look at you and bring her face close to yours just for you to say her name in the sultriest way that made the woman in front of you physically stutter, "Wanda."

Wanda swallows the lump in her throat, dazed as she watches your lips as you spoke out her name. She parted her lips, unaware of the hazy look in her eyes as she stared at you. Dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, she subconsciously leaned in to press another kiss to your sweet mouth, but you cupped her face with a soft yet commanding touch before she could close the distance. Wanda's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as your gentle fingers caressed her skin. She felt a shiver run down her spine as your touch lingered, trailing slowly from her face, down her neck, and over her collarbone. Your hands moved with deliberate tenderness, unbuttoning the rest of her shirt one button at a time.

And she could only watch; her eyes locked onto your hands as if they were the most mesmerizing thing in the world. Your movements were slow, each button releasing its hold on the fabric with a soft, tantalizing pop. Wanda, lost in the sensations of your touch, was in a daze once again. Her eyes remained fixed on your hands, watching as they worked their way down, unbuttoning her shirt one by one. Your fingers brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. With the last button undone, you gently slid Wanda's shirt off her shoulders, and it slipped down her arms, a whisper of fabric gliding to the floor. You couldn’t help but smile at her, hovering over you with a black bra on, her pants unbuckled, and her hair tousled from all of the making out. God, was she beautiful.

And Wanda thought the same thing about you, if not more. You still had your dress on, and the way you spread your legs a bit so she could settle comfortably on top of you did nothing but make her feral. Wanda’s mouth practically watered at the sight of your exposed skin. With a gentle and curious hand, her fingers danced along the skin of your leg, slipping under that same tantalizing slit that had been teasing her the whole night. She kissed your chest as she did so, but with the way you were squirming underneath her, Wanda couldn’t get the thought of your hot, naked, trampling body out of her head. And she could feel it—fuck, that lacy underwear you were wearing—as if you had planned this all along. It was driving her absolutely insane.

"You can take my clothes off for me," you whispered lowly into her ear, and for a moment, Wanda froze at your words.

Soon enough, her hands started pulling roughly at every piece of fabric she could get her hands on. She needed to see you. She was going to lose it if she didn’t see you. And despite how rough her hands were, Wanda carefully slipped the dress off of your body, undoing its zipper in a way you almost didn’t notice. But all caution was thrown out the window when Wanda finally laid eyes on your half-naked body. It was black lace underwear that you were sporting, and all she could think about was how stunning you looked. She sat there for a while, frozen and heated, her eyes raking over every inch of your body. To think that you were wearing this underneath that goddamn dress this whole time, god, it makes her absolutely exasperated with desire.

"I’m getting a bit cold here, Professor," you smirk, your fingers trailing up her pants, finally meeting her undone belt once again. "Warm me up a little?"

"Yes ma’am," Wanda breathed out and nodded, her hand ghosting over your skin once more as you opened your arms and urged her to come closer—the sight causing her to melt and a question she didn’t even think twice about spilling from her mouth. "Can I fuck you? Please?"

Almost immediately, Wanda leaned down and pressed her face against your body, littering soft and hot kisses along your stomach, up the valley of your breasts, your collarbones, and to your neck. She would lick, suck, and kiss all over again, marking your skin with the prettiest bruises. You almost forget to answer her question when she starts kissing you, but she pleaded once more. To let her do whatever she wanted, just say the word, and she’ll make sure to make you feel so fucking good.

"Please," she begged you, whining only slightly as she kissed your neck. "Please, (Y/n). Please—I'll do anything, I—"

"Touch me there," you said, slipping your hand into hers to lead it down to your warm, clothed center. "Right there, Wanda."

You let her fingers press against the fabric, feeling how undeniably soaked you were. Without a second thought, Wanda immediately circles your clothed pussy with the pads of her fingers, just getting lost in the feeling of your wet heat. Her jaw slowly drops as she watches her own fingers play with your cunt. She pressed even harder the moment she finds your clit underneath the thin fabric and when you moaned, arching your back slightly in the process, she lost all self-control. You don’t even get a second to catch your breath as Wanda immediately starts clawing at your underwear, pulling your bra off of your chest in the quickest way possible. And, when she moved her hands back to your panties to uncover the very treasure she was yearning for, you suddenly heard an unmistakable sound—the sound of fabric tearing.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as Wanda stared at the torn piece of underwear in her hands, "Did you just—"

"I’m sorry." Then she kissed you to give you something else to think about other than the fact that she just ripped your precious, laced underwear.

"You ripped—"

She kissed you again, murmuring against your lips, "I’m sorry, baby."

"That was expensive, you know. I just got it last week," you said, rolling your eyes, wrapping your arms around her neck as she continued to kiss your skin all over again. And it was working—when you felt her lips kissing you and sucking on you, you could barely think about anything else.

The corner of Wanda’s lips turned upward at the thought of you buying lingerie just for her, "I said, I’m sorry. I’ll get you another one, I promise… But, right now, I really want to fuck you. I want to fuck you until you can't move. Let me make you feel better, baby? Please."

Wanda's plea hung in the air, her voice a desperate whisper filled with desire. When she turned to look back at you, she did so with an intensity that made your heart race even faster. Already blushing from the heat of the moment, you felt your cheeks grow even hotter and hotter. Your gaze locked onto Wanda's lidded eyes, and you could see clear as day the raw need inside of them.

Your lips parted, and a deep, crimson blush spread across your cheeks. With a soft voice, almost breathless, you finally gave in, "You’re lucky I like you, Professor."

You were going to say more, but you couldn’t help the gasp that fell from your lips when Wanda dips two fingers into your pussy without any warning. She could feel you tense up around her waist, and your hands moved to grip her biceps as she started pumping into you at a slow pace, easing her way up to a faster one. Wanda’s jaw dropped once again, moaning as she felt just how tight, warm, and wet you were around her fingers. She could feel every sliver of you, your spongy walls wrapping around her digits, and you gasping right into her ear. God, it was so perfect. You are so perfect. She could fuck you like this forever.

"Does that feel good?" she asked, looking up at you with lidded eyes while her fingers continued to make their way in and out, in and out.

"Yes, right there," you nod quickly, moaning in her ear as your grip on her arms got tighter, trying to hold on for dear life as Wanda gradually got faster and faster. "You feel so good inside of me, Wanda. So good—ah!"

The woman reveled in your praise, unable to hold back her own moans as she watched her fingers, glistening with your slick, sink deeper and deeper.

"You’re sucking my fingers in, baby." And you truly were. Her fingers are buried deep in your pussy, and almost immediately, she finds that weak, spongy spot inside of you and begins to torture that button. With your moans getting pounder and louder, she penetrates deep against it, groaning into your neck as she listens to the music of your moans and whimpers.

After a moment of getting lost in the heavenly sounds that were spilling from your mouth, Wanda pulls your leg over to your chest, pumping her fingers in and out at a much faster pace than before. With her digits accelerating in speed, your body jolts and your moans go up an octave as Wanda continued to fuck her fingers into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling her press against that sweet spot inside your pussy over and over again, building up to the climax she had been working diligently to witness. And finally, the band holding you together finally breaks, your body succumbing to one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. Wetness pools all over her hand, and your pussy clenches tightly around her fingers. Wanda melts at the sight of your trembling body and shaky legs as your hands grip onto her biceps even harder, trying to hold on as she helped you ride out your climax.

When you calmed down, legs trembling against her, Wanda carefully pulled her fingers out of you with a squelch. She stared down in awe at your wetness, glistening all over her fingers and dripping down her hand. With her lips parted and eyes glued, you could not help but smile as you were catching your breath, still a bit hazy from the orgasm she had just given you. When you felt like the professor was taking a bit longer than expected, you reached down and gently brought her hand close to your face, her eyes following as you did so. And when you opened your mouth, you dragged your tongue slowly over the length of her fingers, and all Wanda had the strength to do was watch.

"Fuck," Wanda breathed out as you licked her hand clean of your essence.

You pulled Wanda in by the neck to kiss her, and she groaned into your mouth when she tasted your juices on your tongue—the taste of how good she made you feel. After pulling away to catch your breath once more, Wanda made her way back down again, leaving kisses along your skin as she traveled to the heavenly space between your gorgeous legs. And with mere inches away, she could smell you, smell the taste of you, and it lingered on her tongue, only making her yearn for more. The scent of you floods her senses, and she leans in with lidded eyes, lost in the thought of having you come right into her mouth. God, she wanted it—she needed it.

She was so close—her mouth was so close. You were right there, all ready in her mind for the grand meal she was about to indulge herself in. And with a soft but firm hand holding her head back by her hair, you stopped her.

"Not yet," you told her, shaking your head slightly as your fingers threaded through her hair.

"What?" Wanda gives you another dazed look, confused and almost frustrated with the fact that you interrupted her on her way to a heavenly meal.

"Not yet," you repeated once again, louder and clearer, with a more demanding tone. "I want you to watch me."

With her eyebrows raising in surprise, Wanda wondered what it was you had in store for her, "Watch you?"

With a teasing smile, you took your hand off of Wanda’s head, slowly dragging your fingers against the inside of your thigh, then in between, the soft pads of your fingers meeting your clit. There was nothing else Wanda could keep her eyes on except the way you pressed softly onto your clit, with another moan slipping out. Your clit was wet and slippery, coated with your juices. You could feel her heavy breath against your pussy, just centimeters away from her face, and all Wanda could do was stare. The sound of your quiet whimpers filled her ears, and it took everything inside Wanda not to dive in, face first, into your heavenly heat.

You must’ve known. You must’ve known what you were doing; keeping her desperate and begging while also checking if she’d be good and obey. And although it was hard to keep away, Wanda followed your orders and watched. With her eyes stuck to that precious button you were torturing all by yourself, she couldn’t help but pant slightly, like an obedient dog waiting for its signal to start eating.

Soon, you were getting close all over again, and Wanda was disappointed that it was not her doing. Although your moans and whimpers were more than enough to fuel her desires, waiting to touch you almost became unbearable, but she remained still, her eyes still glued to your pretty pussy as you touched yourself.

"Let me—Let me touch you," Wanda pleaded, unable to take her eyes off of the way you were rubbing your fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. "Please, let me help."

"N-Not yet," you said again, your body writhing more and more as each second passed.

With a groan, Wanda dropped her head down against the plush, inside part of your thighs, holding you down as you chased your own high. She kept watching with her mouth open as she resisted each and every urge in her body that told her to ignore your order and just jump right in, but she held herself back. She didn’t even know how, but she knew that once you allowed her, you’d reward her with the best meal and orgasm you could ever give her.

And just as you were about to hit your peak, you let one word slip, "Now."

Wanda finally opened her mouth and let her tongue fall. Her jaw drops as she lets her tongue travel from the bottom to the top, dragging it through your folds and swirling it messily around your clit. The taste of you was as blissful as angels singing in her mouth, as if her tastebuds had been blessed by the gods themselves. Your cries and moans rested well on Wanda’s ears, doing nothing to stop her from eating you out so fervently. A pleasured groan fell from Wanda’s muffled mouth as you tugged harshly at her hair, Her breath was hot, and your pussy had you squirming beneath her. It was heaven for Wanda. God, she’d give everything if it meant being able to live the rest of her days down here, with her head between your legs and your pussy in her mouth. She’d be set for life.

Your poor clit was already so sensitive, and Wanda was lapping at you like a thirsty dog. Your precious brain couldn’t even focus anymore, and all you could think about was Wanda’s tongue. And because of how close you were just before she started, your orgasm started to build higher and higher in a matter of seconds. Her mouth showed no remorse, and the lewd noises only made you flush deeper. With her thighs squeezing her head between your thighs, Wanda devoured you, holding you still with ease despite your constant squirming. Then, she wrapped her mouth around your clit, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, until she had you screaming her name into the air as you came inside of her mouth.

And yet, she doesn’t stop.

"W-Wanda, I—"

"Not yet," she said, voice muffled as she continued to fuck you through your orgasm, her tongue swirling and licking every crevice in and out of your sex.

Your words die in your mouth, and you let out a squeal as she buries her tongue right into your pussy all over again, licking and swirling it inside of you as you whined about how it was too much for you to handle. But, she kept going anyway. And fuck, you felt incredible wrapped around her tongue; it drove Wanda insane. Your body was hot, trembling at the mercy of her touch, screaming out as Wanda continued to overstimulate you. She was now far from being gentle. How could she? When you had been teasing her all through the night with that slit in your dress and those eyes that were begging her to do something? Occasionally, she’d open her eyes to see you arching your back, screaming into the pillow, and it made Wanda moan against your pussy, the vibrations doing more to stimulate you.

With her eyes glued to your body as your legs tensed around her head and your stomach clenched as you moaned, Wanda whined and pushed herself further into you. Her hands were now spreading your folds open as she dragged her tongue up and down your fold before wrapping around your clit once more. Even when you finally gushed inside her mouth, she kept going, even with your entire body enveloped in shivers, as she savored each and every drop of your essence.

"I think–It’s too much—" you tried to say.

But, she just hit you with the same words all over again, "Not yet."

And she’d make you come a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth—until you couldn’t take it anymore. By the end of all of it, Wanda goes back up to your face, her heart racing faster as she sees your tear-stained cheeks and a lazy smile on your face as you try to look at her. She wipes them clean with her thumb and kisses them with her lips, using her other hand to calm your trembling body by running it along your quivering legs.

You reach out for her with a whimper, trying to grab hold of her, begging for her care as she soothes your body. Wanda smiles and re-kisses each bruise she left on you, all the way up until she makes it to your mouth. She kisses you softly and gently, and you can taste yourself right on her tongue. Nuzzling your face into her neck, Wanda pulls your body to lay on top of her, securing a tight and comforting hold on you as you began your drift to sleep.

It’s everything Wanda could have ever wanted—to be with you. It was perfect. You were perfect.

"You did so good, Wanda," you said sleepily into her skin, muffled as you spoke. "So good for me."

"I think I should be the one saying that, (Y/n)," she replied with a proud smile as she ran her hand through your hair. Eventually, her hand rested on your cheek, soothing her thumb over your skin as you began to let your eyes flutter closed at her soothing touch. "You are… so beautiful, darling… So perfect."

You almost fall asleep after a few seconds. Her touches, the feeling of her breathing, and the way her skin felt was everything you ever wanted and more. Wanda laid there with the same thought in her head, her heart filled with an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. As she gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, she couldn't imagine a more perfect moment.

“I have something for you,” you say, voice rasp and groggy as you moved reach something from the drawer of your side table. “It’s nothing special… it’s just… you keep losing your card, so..”

You couldn't help but feel a touch of nervousness. You had spent hours searching for the perfect gift, wanting to express you affection for Wanda in a meaningful way. Yet, when you were finally about to give it to her, you couldn't help but feel a bit shy about its simplicity.

But then, Wanda's eyes lit up with curiosity as she accepted the small box and carefully opened it. Inside, she found a cute red lanyard with a playful pattern, and her heart swelled with affection. She held it delicately in her hands, her fingers gently tracing the tiny pattern that adorned the fabric. It was a simple yet thoughtful gift, and she couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for you for choosing it.

Your shyness melted away, replaced by a radiant smile, as you watched Wanda’s joy. You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth, knowing that your gift had brought a smile to the professor’s face.

Wanda turned towards you, her eyes soft with emotion and her heart full. She reached out and gently cupped your cheek with her hand, her thumb tenderly brushing against your skin. With a sweet and sincere smile, Wanda leaned in slowly, her lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. Your lips met like two puzzle pieces finally fitting together, and for that moment, the world seemed to fade away.

“It’s perfect,” Wanda says, unable to suppress the way her lips curved upward. “Thank you.”

Then, each day as you arrived for class, your heart couldn't help but skip a beat when you saw Wanda. What caught your attention immediately was the sight of the red lanyard that Wanda wore around her neck. It didn't matter if Wanda's outfit matched the lanyard or not; it was always there, a constant presence, and a sweet reminder of the thoughtful gift you had given her. On some days, it stood out vividly against Wanda's attire, a burst of color that added charm to her ensemble. On others, it contrasted playfully, a delightful pop of red against more subdued colors. But in any case, it was always there.

Over the next few weeks, You and Wanda found yourselves in a whirlwind of newfound affection and stolen moments. In the classroom, your glances became a language of your own. Wanda would catch your eye from across the room, and a playful yet affectionate smile would curve both yours and her lips. It was as if you shared an inside joke, one that no one else in the class could comprehend. As the days went by, their desire for each other grew. They were days off of stolen kisses, lingering glances, and shared smiles that only you could fully understand.

One day, in the middle of a lecture, Wanda couldn't resist the urge any longer. She discreetly slipped out of her seat and gently tugged at your hand, pulling you slightly behind and into a closet at the back of the room, out of sight from her classmates' curious eyes. With a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye, Wanda leaned in and pressed her lips against yours. It was soft and tender, a tantalizing taste of their affection that left both of you breathless. The classroom continued with the lecture, seemingly oblivious to the hidden exchange.

Yet, for Wanda, those stolen kisses were like sweet secrets shared only between the two of you.

— navigation!

#bellaveux writes!#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen #marvel #avengers x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader

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little-diable · 5 months

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Who prays for Satan? - Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

This isn't our usual dark!Tom, he's still fucked up, but not as dark as the other priest fics. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Priest Riddle is the reader's theology professor, a man she has always found herself interested in, but things escalate when she joins his church for her internship.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, guided masturbation (f), spanking, forced confession, smut in a church/in a confessional, choking, degrading, unaddressed age gap, power play, professor x student, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!student!reader (about 3k words)

"Please remember that you only have time until Friday to tell me, where you will do your internship. Have a good week, and don’t forget the essays, please.” The sounds of students hastily rising to their feet echoed through the room, but while some were desperate to leave, getting away from the professor who looked like God’s finest creation, but spoke like the Devil himself, others were desperate to catch his attention with bland questions he found himself annoyed by.

“(Y/n), do you have a moment?” His voice drew her closer, past the group of students who looked at her with hate swimming in their pupils. She didn’t look at them as she walked past them, coming to a halt in front of the tall man with a soft smile glued to her lips. “Walk with me.”

Neither of them spared the others another glance as he strode out in the hallway, expecting her to follow him. It wasn’t the first class of his (y/n) was visiting, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, as she found herself awfully drawn towards the priest, who had taken on a few theology classes at their university. Something about him was different. Something she couldn’t let go of, no matter how hard she tried to.

“I knew you’d turn in your essay days before the others would even begin writing it, but I was pleasantly surprised by your work this week. It was smart of you to use the famous Mark Twain quote: “But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?” It always stuck with me.”

“Thank you, Professor Riddle. You once told me how much you think of this quote, so it only felt right to use it for this week’s focus on sinning.” The throaty chuckle rumbling through him left her feeling surprised, not used to seeing him this giddy. His smile didn’t waver, not as they came to a halt in front of his office, not as he guided her inside, not as they plopped down on their designated seats.

“Your essay isn’t the reason for this chat, though. I was thinking of what you said to me, and I decided that you can join my church for your internship. But I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell others I’m allowing you to do this, I never give out internships, and I’m only taking you on because I know how dedicated and smart you are.” Heat rose in her system, crawling up her throat to force (y/n) to avert her gaze. She had been desperate to find a church to join, not wanting to spend her internship as a simple office help, she needed practice, something to help her figure out what she actually wanted to do with her life.

“I highly appreciate this, thank you, professor. I promise, I won’t make you regret your choice.” Her eyes flickered back to his piercing ones, instantly sucked into his mesmerizing grasp. He was like a siren, luring her into his trap to feast on her darkening thoughts – thoughts she hadn’t been able to shake ever since meeting the tall priest.

“I know you won’t, (y/n). You will start Sunday morning to join me for the first service of the day, and then we can go through your task for the upcoming two weeks.”

……

“Professor?” Her voice hallowed through the empty church. It was still dark out, an early morning she had struggled to adjust to, and yet her nerves had managed to get her out of bed, finding her way towards these holy halls. Her sneakers met the ground as (y/n) walked up to the altar, letting her fingertips dance over the cold marble, appreciating the grounding sensation she was instantly taken over by.

“You’re early.” Professor Riddle's raspy voice made her jump, she had been too distracted by her surroundings to hear him approach, slowly turning towards him with wide eyes. He was wearing his black signature suit, paired with the white collar she’d see in her darkest moments, making heat pool between her thighs.

(Y/n) clawed her fingernails into her palms to rip herself out of the hazy fog calling for her, needing to stay focused before she could do or say something that would end her internship right there and then.

“I thought you may need some help preparing for the service.” A sickly sweet smile tugged on her lips, forcing his teeth to rot from the mere possibility of tasting her. He took a step towards her, with his hands clamped together behind his back, giving him an extra authoritarian touch. But while her body screamed at her to take a step back, to find shelter behind the altar, her mind murmured to (y/n) to hold still, not daring to give in to his intimidation scheme.

“I certainly appreciate your help, (y/n). I knew it was the right choice to pick you for this internship.” He towered over her, staring down at her with his gaze reminding her of a snake, ready to pounce, to sink its poisonous teeth into her quivering body. At that very moment, she was Eve, tempted by the eternal sin, and he was her downfall. She stood closer to him than ever before, front about to touch his, seeking the warmth he emanated in a place as cold as this church.

“So, what should I do?” (Y/n) needed to get away from him, no longer trusting herself with ignoring the shameless whispers ringing in her ears. But the tall man didn’t back off, he kept watching her with that smirk that told her he knew exactly what she found herself bothered by. A losing game (y/n) had never been destined to win, burning out like a cigarette setting a petrol station ablaze, destined to burn to the ground.

“Why don’t you choose this morning’s prayers?” He reached for the Bible resting on the altar, way too close to her. His front brushed hers as he leaned forward, reaching for the leather-bound book before pushing it into (y/n)’s grasp. Their eyes kept holding contact, even as his hand disappeared inside the pocket of his jacket, pulling free a black rosary. “Oh, before I forget. Here, I want you to have this.”

(Y/n) didn’t get any time to react or to ask questions as he pushed the rosary over her head to let it rest on her chest. His hand kept holding onto the dangling cross, while his eyes flickered back to her confused ones. “They will know you belong to me, wear it whenever you are working here.”

……

Her eyes were focused on the bright laptop screen as she was typing away her notes for this day, promising to give them to Professor Riddle before leaving. Even though her thoughts were still all over the place, (y/n) found herself growing more comfortable around the tall man most students were scared of. He treated her kindly, and yet something was hiding behind his words and expressions she couldn’t pinpoint.

“Are you done with your notes?” Professor Riddle’s voice filled his office as he stepped inside. (Y/n) didn’t lift her gaze at first, hastily trying to type the last sentence before she gave in and dared to look at him.

“Just finished, should I print them?” He didn’t reply to her question, eyes fully focused on her upper body, trying to locate the missing rosary. With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) watched him approach, rounding the desk to find his way towards her. (Y/n) struggled to breathe as the scent of his expensive cologne clashed against her frame, forcing her to get lost in his darkening eyes.

“Where is the rosary?” She knew that she had forgotten it at home this very morning, too tired to care about any rules and regulations, but her hand still snapped up to her chest, trying to find the missing piece.

“I’m sorry, I forgot it at home.” He didn’t give in to the soft smile (y/n) shot him, didn’t pick up on the exhaustion dripping from her words, solemnly focused on the way she had gone against his rules. His tongue kissed his teeth before he took a step back and stretched his ringed hand out for her to take. “Where are we going?”

“I wanted to go over this with you tomorrow, but it seems like tonight is the perfect time to do so.” (Y/n) was led out of his office and down the hallway towards the dark nave. They walked up to the confessional, and as he opened one door for her, he shot her a look that made her tremble, letting any protests die on the tip of her tongue.

“Have you ever confessed before, (y/n)?” She was engulfed by darkness, and could barely see her own hands, let alone the man who was sitting close to her, behind the wooden construction keeping them apart. The scent of incense hung in the air, sticking to her like a second layer of skin, a reminder of their sacred surroundings.

“No, professor.” (Y/n) had been addressing him as “Professor” for the past days, not daring to use any other title, let alone his first name. But the second she used this very title to address him, (y/n) could tell that it would be the last time she’d call him that tonight, a shift was happening, something she was now taken over by.

“It’s Priest Riddle to you.” The barely audible gasp clawing through (y/n) left him chuckling, followed by the sound of him shifting around on the bench, making himself comfortable as she grew more tense. “You sinned, you went against my rules. I must punish you for that, (y/n).”

“Punish me?” She hated that his words pushed excitement through her, forcing her to sit even straighter as if he could see her. Her fingertips began to tingle, her legs were quivering, unable to hold still as something she had only dreamt of slowly began to unfold right at that very moment.

“Honesty will be the price of your foolishness, (y/n). I notice the way you look at me, how you seem to long for something you aren’t allowed to even reach for. Tell me, (y/n), what is it you so desperately seem to want?” Embarrassment flushed through her, followed by anger she couldn’t shake. How dare he ask something like this? How dare he try to embarrass her for a simple mistake? She should have left the confessional, stormed out of the church, and reported the man for overstepping. And yet she didn’t, already stuck in the trap he had laid out for her months ago.

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. She didn’t know what she wanted from him if she was merely longing for his touch, or if something even more desperate was guiding her on. She didn’t know if she wanted a simple taste, or to be swallowed wholly by him. She simply didn’t know.

“How far are you willing to go, (y/n)?” Her mouth felt dry, unable to swallow as his words began to sink in. (Y/n) was grateful that he couldn’t see her, the way her pupils were dilated by the lust flushing through her, the goosebumps covering every visible part of her body as if she was engulfed by an icy wind.

“Farther than I should.” A part of her expected him to break the spell they were now connected by, to pull her out of the confessional and scold her for giving in this easily. But the priest didn’t move, and neither did (y/n).

“Spread your legs, I want you to touch yourself like I bet you keep imagining me doing.” With her heart in her throat, (y/n)’s hand disappeared beneath her skirt, slowly pushing her damp panties aside. A soft moan clawed through the student, grateful that the others had left the church hours ago. “Good girl, fuck yourself with your fingers.”

Another moan left (y/n) as she pushed two fingers into her tightness, spreading her walls as if she was preparing herself for his cock, desperate to take every inch. She kept moaning for him, choking on her sounds that grew heavier with every passing moment.

“I can hear how wet you are, I bet you taste so sweet, like the forbidden fruit.” His words guided her on, ringing in her ears as if the Devil was calling for her, wandering through the darkness to reach his open arms, getting lost in his sweet promises. “I should imprint my palm on your skin for going against my rules. You promised you wouldn’t disappoint me, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry.” Her needy whimpers left the priest chuckling, sounds that almost managed to drown out the ones clawing through (y/n).

“I’m sure you are, (y/n). Stop touching yourself.” It pained her to pull her hand away, she had been close to giving in, ready to call out his name as her orgasm clashed through her, seconds before she could have reached paradise. The sounds of Priest Riddle leaving his side of the confessional echoed through the evening, followed by the sounds of him opening her side and stepping into the small space.

She was pulled to her feet and tugged in for a kiss that left her moaning. (Y/n)’s arms found their way around Priest Riddle's neck, trying to pull the tall man even closer as if she were addicted to him. He broke the kiss to turn her around, pressing (y/n)’s front against the wooden wall separating both sides of the confessional. His ringed hands felt cold against her body as he shuffled her skirt up to her waist, letting her panties drop to the ground seconds later.

“I hope you prepared yourself enough for this punishment.” His ringed hand came down on her behind, forcing a yelp out of (y/n) who pressed herself further against the cold wood. Pain stretched itself through her, an unfamiliar kind of pain that made her ache for more. Once again, his palm met her warm skin, knowing that she’d struggle with sitting for the next few days. “I can’t wait to finally fuck you, make you pay for all these times I felt your eyes on me like a needy whore who doesn’t know when to stop.”

(Y/n) couldn’t protest, she couldn’t speak up to beg him for any kindness he wouldn’t offer. Only as she felt him pull away for a moment did (y/n) allow herself to breathe, blinking away the tears that had welled up in her eyes.

“What do you want, (y/n)? And don’t feed me another lie. I want your honesty.” Chills ran down her spine at his dangerous tone, shaking through (y/n) like an earthquake set on ripping her off her feet. She had to deeply inhale, had to heavily swallow before she managed to put her longings into words, needing to break out of his trap.

“I want your cock, fuck me, please, Priest Riddle.” A satisfied hum left the man, followed by the sounds of him ripping open a condom, prepared for his very punishment. It didn’t take long until she felt him at her entrance, slowly pushing into (y/n) with a heavy groan that dripped with need and lust clawing through him.

It felt as if they had been created for his moment only, bodies made to fit.

“I should tell you to never sin again, to stay true to your promises. But you’ve turned me into a sinner as well, no promise could keep me from you any longer.” His words left her gasping, walls clenching around this twitching cock. He fucked her with urgency, set on proving to (y/n) and to himself that she was his, his to guide, his to punish.

“You take my cock so well, I bet you dreamt of being fucked by me in a holy place, didn’t you?” His warm breath clashed against her tingling skin as he spoke his words, drawing a heavy sob out of (y/n) as she lost her grip on their surroundings. Tom’s hand moved like a snake, slithering back up to her throat to hold onto her, letting go of a raspy, “Speak when I ask you to.”

“Yes, I did. I dreamt of it.” It was a simple reply, yet it was just enough to make the priest hum in approval. He twitched inside of her as he could tell that they both were ready to let go with their hearts pounding and their limbs aching. (Y/n) struggled to breathe on as he tightened his grip on her throat, forcing her head to rest against his broad chest. The priest stared down at (y/n), her lighthouse in the darkest nights, the burning bush to rely on. An anchor of safety.

“Let go, (y/n), be honest once again.” She came with a gasp, with her eyes squeezed shut and her lips parted. A sight so ethereal, the priest followed her moments later, letting his teeth graze his lower lip to draw some blood. He pulled out of her all too quickly, to turn her back towards him with his bloody lip finding hers, “Now you’re truly mine, bound my blood.”

And who was she to deny a sinner a wish this pure? At least it was on them to pray for Satan that night, since God no longer would pick up on their calls.

#Tom Riddle smut #priest fic #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle imagine

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lenafromthenordiccoven · 8 months

Text

Call Out Our Names - Bob x f!reader x Phoenix

(moodboard made by me, Top Gun Maverick screencaps by hd-screencaps, rest free-pik.com)

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x afab!reader x Natasha “Phoenix” Trace

Requested? yes

Rating: M – MDNI 18+

Word count: 3244

Warnings: why choose, threesome (FFM), oral (f!receiving), bi!reader, soft dom!Bob, definitely pleasure dom!Phoenix, Bob Floyd fucks, and so does Phoenix, fingering, unprotected PinV (be smart and wrap it, folks)

Summary: When your best friend, Mickey, invites you to come stay with him in San Diego for a bit, you didn’t expect that to lead you to meet two new people who would catch your eye immediately. Only problem is: you don’t think, they’re the sharing type. But maybe – just maybe – you’re wrong?

Read on ao3

Taglist: @high-speed-r

A/N: Thank you for sending in that lovely request, anon! Hope, you’ll enjoy what my brain cooked up. (Cause those two definitely have me in a constant state of bi panic) And I’m so sorry for the long wait 😭 Please accept my first humble offering to @attapullman’s International Bob Floyd Fucks month.

You didn’t quite know what to expect when Mickey had told you, you’d both be going to a BBQ at his former instructor’s home. In fact, you had no idea what to expect of your time in San Diego at all. Mickey, your best friend since kindergarten and WSO for the Navy, was now stationed permanently in San Diego for the foreseeable future and, thus, had invited you out to stay with him for a bit. “You can meet the squad and you can relax. Most importantly, relax. I know, you’ve probably been working yourself to the bone again,” he’d said.

And, though you would never admit it, he wasn’t wrong. Running an animal accessory boutique in Northern Cali, as well as volunteering at your local animal shelter and running the shelter’s social media accounts were more than enough to have you falling into your bed face first at the end of the day. But you’d also recently started remote classes for a degree in psychology and social services, trying to establish a program in your town that would bring together veterans and pets that needed foster homes or new, permanent homes. To say you were exhausted would be an understatement. You didn’t think, you’d ever get rid of the tiredness in your bones. So, while you felt guilty for going away at all, your boss at the shelter had urged you to take some time off. And then Mickey had offered his guest room.

And now you were standing in Captain Mitchell’s backyard, who’d introduced himself as Pete. “Although Maverick or Mav are both fine, too,” he’d joked given that most of the squad called him Mav now. Mickey had introduced you to everybody and while Hangman and Coyote had both flirted with you (after Mickey had made it clear that you were just friends), you couldn’t keep your eyes from wandering to Bob and Phoenix, both standing next to Rooster and Mav and helping with the BBQ.

You know, you’d caught their eyes wandering back to you multiple times by now. Especially since Bob was now sporting a blush that surely had little to do with the heat from the grill. But you had yet to exchange more than polite hellos with either of them – and you wanted to, badly.

“You can talk to them, you know,” Mickey said, nudging you with his elbow in your side when he caught your thousand-yard-stare.

You jumped slightly, brought back to reality by your best friend’s teasing hint. “I-I…? What?” you sputtered before opting to just keep your mouth shut entirely. He was right. You could go over there and introduce yourself. You wanted to, after all. But you were taken aback by the ferocity of your own desire.

“They don’t bite. Well, Nat might. But Bob usually doesn’t.”

You tear your gaze away from their backs – you were 99,9% sure, they should’ve felt your stare burning into their flesh anyway – and turn to look at your best friend. “You think? But—”

“No buts. Just go over there, talk to them and, most importantly, relax and have fun.” He gave you a little shove with his hand on the small of your back in the direction of the grill.

Phoenix saw you first, nodding at you before lightly tapping on Bob’s shoulder, so you’d have his attention as well. He turned around, the light blue eyes behind his gold-wire-rimmed glasses immediately locked onto yours and you could feel the heat creep up your own neck and into your cheeks.

“Y/N, right?” Phoenix asked and you nodded. “What’s up? Need us to save you from Bagman?”

You chuckled at the variation of Hangman’s callsign. Mickey hadn’t been able to tell you much from his last deployment, but he had told you why people called Hangman Hangman, or sometimes Bagman in Phoenix’s case. “Uh, no. Came over here to talk to the two of you, actually.” You nervously put a strand of hair back behind your right ear.

“You-you did?” Bob asked, his eyes now wide with surprise before he exchanged a quick look with Phoenix, who was now smiling at you like she knew how to read your thoughts and knew exactly what you had on your mind.

“Yeah, I did. I do.”

***

You still had no idea how you’d gone from talking and laughing with Phoenix and Bob in Mav’s backyard to now having Phoenix steal the breath from your lungs with a searing kiss as Bob tried to open his front door. You couldn’t help the whimper rising in your throat when you felt Phoenix’s thigh wedge itself between your legs and bump against your core.

You heard Bob groan next to you as the door finally gave way and the three of you tumbled inside. It didn’t take long for him to retake his spot behind you, the heat radiating off his body making you shiver. His hands drifted down your sides and to your hips as Phoenix’s came up to massage your breasts over your bra and shirt. You openly moaned against her mouth, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“Somebody’s sensitive,” Bob murmured against your ear. “You know,” he continued, gently taking your earlobe between his teeth and quickly tugging, “I’m not usually one for sharing. But I’ll make an exception this time. If you let me take the lead, Nat.”

Phoenix pulled back from the kiss, chuckling as you chased after her lips, having grown addicted to her taste after just a few minutes. “Can’t promise that, but I’ll try.”

“Fine by me. Now, let’s get ourselves to the bedroom, shall we?” Bob grumbled against your neck and you nodded furiously. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your core throbbed in time with your heartbeat. All you could think was desire, all you could feel was how their touches and kisses set your body ablaze even through your clothes. Fuck, this was definitely not what you’d envisioned when you’d accepted Mickey’s invitation. But it was so much better than what your brain could have ever come up with.

Somehow, the three of you had made it into Bob’s bedroom without falling, your bodies fused together and limbs tangled. It was a miracle, you thought, that you’d managed to take off your clothes at all. Leaving the three of you in just your underwear.

You licked your lips as your eyes raked over their forms, drawing a chuckle from Bob. “You like what you see, darlin’?” His eyes had darkened as his pupils had blown out with lust; Phoenix looked equally as hungry as you felt.

You nodded, your hands moving to cup him through his boxers. He groaned, snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you to him to press his lips against yours. You sighed against his lips, easily allowing him to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Then you felt Phoenix press her front against your back and nibble on your shoulder, her hands gripping your hips and guiding your movement as you rubbed against Bob’s thigh and crotch.

“Are you going to be a good girl for us, Y/N?” Phoenix whispered and you broke the kiss with Bob as you nodded.

“Yes, anything. I’ll do anything you want.” You’re pretty sure, your brain has actually stopped working as the only thing you cared about was the feeling of their bodies against yours, their touches, their kisses—the noises they made. So, you’re surprised, you can get any words out at all, let alone a full sentence.

“Eager, are we?” Bob mumbles, you blink up at him and barely catch the slightly smug smirk on his lips. The brief glimpse you got sent you reeling regardless, never having thought it possible for this softspoken, shy-looking man to be so dominant in the bedroom. Oh, you’d been wrong. So wrong. And you loved it. You’d forgotten what it was like to have somebody else make the decisions for you, to be able to just let yourself fall, relax and enjoy pleasure.

“Maybe just a little bit?” you replied in equally hushed tones. Your voice drifted off into a sigh when Phoenix’s fingers brushed your core over your soaked panties. Your head falls back against her shoulder.

She clicked her tongue at you. “You’ve ruined your panties, pretty girl. Soaked through them cause you want us so badly, hm?” You whimpered in response, her touch growing firmer, rubbing circles over your pubic mound, but the pressure wasn’t enough against your clit.

“What, can’t even answer us anymore? We’ve barely touched you, darlin’.” You squeezed your eyes shut and your thighs together, essentially trapping Phoenix’s hand between them at Bob’s words. Condescension and lust were dripping off his voice like honey—or drops of oil, only adding fuel to the flames of desire raging through your veins. You reached out your hands for the hem of his boxers, you managed to begin dragging them down over his hips. You slipped out of Phoenix’s grasp on your own hips and were about halfway to your knees in front of them before Bob stopped you by grabbing your wrists.

He shook his head at you, you blinked at him in response, wide-eyed. Had you done something wrong? The question must have been clearly written on your face because he shook his head again, gently cupped your jaw with one of his hands. His thumb stroked over the skin of your cheek and you leaned into the touch, your eyes fluttering closed at the touch. Bob cleared his throat and brought your gaze back to his face.

“Not that I’m not dyin’ to find out what your mouth feels like around my cock, we can do that another time.” Another time. You almost lost your mind at the implication of doing this again. And your mind was already tirelessly spinning out of control in the haze of lust and promised touches. Bob continued, “Why don’t you get on your knees on that bed, ass in the air and show Nat just how badly you wanna please us?”

You heard her groan above you at the implication and you nodded. At this point, you couldn’t give a single fuck anymore about how needy you’d come off to them. You needed them, wanted them, practically burned with the need to please them and have them take care of you in return. Your body should have turned to ashes by now with how hot you felt. However, despite the desire making your every motion feel hazy and inefficient, you managed to climb onto the bed. You hadn’t noticed Phoenix getting comfortable with her back propped up against the headboard. She reached out one of her hands for you and you took it, scooting up until you were almost kneeling in her lap.

“Come here,” she whispered and drew you in by your hand. The other landed on your neck and jaw. She pulled you ever closer, until your breasts brushed hers just as her lips captured yours in a honey-sweet kiss that did nothing to hide the hunger burning underneath her skin, too. You kissed her back, desperate now that you’d gotten a taste, and tried to deepen the kiss. But then you felt Bob’s hands come to rest on your hips, his thumbs drawing soothing circles onto your skin when you’d jumped at the unexpected contact.

Just as Bob pulled your hips and ass backwards and up towards him, Phoenix pushed you down with a hand on your shoulder until your upper body rested on the mattress between her legs. Your face was now eye-level with her bare pussy. When had she taken the time to take off her own panties? You barely had time to wonder, let alone voice the question, when Bob’s lips on your lower back drew a sigh and a shudder from you.

His lips briefly brushed the shell of your ear as he let almost the whole, delicious weight of his body rest on top of yours, and whispered: “Go on, don’t be shy. Show us what that pretty mouth of yours can do, darlin’.” You almost whined when he withdrew from your back again and the cool air of the bedroom hit your heated skin. He hooked his

“What are you going to do, Bob?” Phoenix asked, the gaze from her half-closed eyes was glued to yours. You could see no hesitation in them and decided to just try and see what her reaction would be. You leaned forward and gave her pussy a tentative kiss, your eyes never leaving her face. When you saw her eyelids flutter, you grew bolder, licked a stripe from her entrance to her clit and then closed your lips around the bud.

“Fuck, Y/N. Knew your mouth would feel good,” Phoenix breathed and slipped one of her hands into your hair on the back of your head. “Keep going, pretty girl. Treating me so well. Use your fingers.” You did as asked, kitten-licking her again. You were about to suck on her clit and slip your index finger into her entrance, when Bob gripped your ass with both his hands and pulled you back against his face. Your mouth fell open and you couldn’t hold back the moan bubbling up your throat as he mirrored your actions. With the difference that the two fingers he was slipping inside of you felt deliciously thicker than your own, now pumping in and out Phoenix at a slow, cautious rhythm while you were figuring out what she liked.

Phoenix’s hand tightened in your hair, her fingertips digging into your skin as you kept going, moaning against her own slick core. You could feel her walls clench down on your fingers as you hooked them and brushed against the sweet spot. She let her head sink back against the headboard and a moan tumbled from her lips; the sound made your heart soar and your chest swell with pride.

“Fuck. You’re seriously missing out, Bobby,” Phoenix said, her voice breathless. And you saw her chest heave with every breath. You could hear Bob chuckle behind you.

“I believe you, Nat. But I’ve got a gorgeous little pussy over here, beggin’ for my attention.” He pressed another kiss to one of your ass cheeks, then he brushed his thumb over your clit, practically strumming the bundle of nerves as if he was trying out the feel and sound of a new guitar. You moaned against Phoenix again, letting your head fall away from her core.

You whimpered, felt your own release approach quickly while Phoenix’s walls pulsed around your fingers. “Please, Bob. I need you. Need to feel you.”

Bob didn’t stop his ministrations; instead, he put his free hand on your back, right in the middle of your shoulder blades and pushed you back down towards Phoenix. “I know, baby. We’ve got you, I promise. Just need you to come on my fingers first, can you do that for us, hm?” His weight was back against your back and you felt him press a kiss against the spot where your neck joined your shoulder.

You nodded, his weight on top of you and Phoenix’s hand that had now slipped from the back of your head to cup your cheek felt like the only things still anchoring you to this world. Otherwise, you were sure, you would fully lost yourself to the stream of pleasure. Phoenix whispering your praises and Bob encouraging you to keep eating her out and pumping your fingers in and out of her, had you clenching around his in your core. The tingling started in your toes and you hadn’t realized, you were curling them up until pleasure shot up your legs and spine to flare out through the rest of your body. Just as Phoenix sighed your name with a satisfied smile on her lips and her thighs clamped down over your ears, muffling any other sounds.

You came up, gasping for air, just as you could feel Bob nudge the head of his thick cock against your entrance. Phoenix drew you up and towards her to press her lips against yours in a kiss of gratitude. You gasped against her as Bob slowly pushed inside of you. One of his big hands was gently rubbing circles on your back, Phoenix reached down to your breasts. She grinned against your lips, you’d almost call it a smirk if you weren’t so lost in the way Bob’s cock was stretching you. Then, Phoenix took one of your lips between her fingers, only rolling it gently at first, before she gave it a quick, sharp twist. Something between a gasp and a moan escaped your mouth and you felt her chuckle more than you heard her. Your own heartbeat was too loud in your ears.

Bob quickly set a delicious pace of quick thrusts, never fully pulling out of your pussy or lifting his chest off your back. You faintly heard him groan against your ear, felt his breath leave his mouth in short pants against your skin. “Fuck, Y/N. You feel fucking heavenly. Takin’ me so well.”

“Faster, please. N-need you to go faster.” You had no idea how you’d managed to get the words out, let alone string together two whole sentences in the same instance. Your heart was pounding in your chest, hammering so hard against your ribcage, you thought, it was either going to burst or break through your ribs. Bob complied, moaning loudly as he felt your walls clench in response.

“I know, you’re close, darlin’. Come on. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” You maned at his words. But when you felt Phoenix shift slightly underneath you, then her fingers rubbing tight circles against your clit, you couldn’t hold back the scream any longer. Pleasure erupted inside you, the coil that had tightened in your belly finally snapping. You faintly heard Bob ask, if he could come inside you and you don’t know how you’d responded with a “Yes” loud enough for him to hear. He groaned, before mouthing at your neck and shoulder as his perfect rhythm faltered and his lips ultimately stilled inside you.

The two of you practically collapsed on top of Phoenix, your legs and arms no longer able to support both your weight as you desperately sucked air into your lungs. You heard her giggle underneath you and felt your lips stretch into a tired, fucked-out smile.

“That was…incredible.”

“Agreed. Now, let’s get ourselves cleaned up and cozy, shall we?” Phoenix asked. Bob only mumbled something you couldn’t quite understand beyond the ringing in your ears finally, slowly, subsiding.

You felt him pull out and whined at the sudden feeling of emptiness, your own limbs too heavy with exhaustion and the afterglow of pleasure to keep him on top of you. You had no idea how you formed the words leaving your lips next. “Can we…do this again, sometime?”

And you barely caught their affirmative responses as you tried your hardest not to drift off to sleep already. Damn it, Mickey had been right. This had been fun. And you never would have guessed, his invitation to stay with him for a couple days ever leading to anything like this. But you also weren’t about to complain. No, never that. Meeting Bob and Phoenix had been a godsent and you hoped, you could hold onto them in the future.

#sophie writes #fanfic: call out our names #bob floyd x f!reader x natasha phoenix trace #bob x reader x phoenix #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x f!reader #natasha trace x reader #natasha trace x f!reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd smut #natasha trace smut #international bob floyd fucks month

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dwindlinghaze · 1 year

Note

Hello! Soo I was wondering if I could request a RemusxReader oneshot/blurb with this scenario. Hear me out:

Reader openly talking to the girls about her crush on Remus she as had for years and just being so casual talking about how much she likes him and thinks he's amazing and hot, and how much she loves him (practically me simping for Rem) and she isn't embarrassed cuz she's known Lily and Marlene for years and they're used to talk like that and tease each other kindly (they usually do it to Lily). But they don't know that Remus and the boys are "accidentally" listening to their conversation.

Lmk what you think! Thankyou ly, byebye <3

moon river

(remus lupin x reader)

contents : fluff, the marauders being nosy af and eavesdropping, bad writing and not proofread :(

a/n : hello anon!!! ty so so much for the request and im so so sorry for taking so long in writing it. but hey i am here and im at your service ;) i rly hope u like this and it fulfilled what you asked for ☁️☁️

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"[y/n] are you free tonight? or does loverboy has to take you away before midnight?" marlene said, linking your arms together as you two walked inside the common room.

"yes... why?"

"charms."

"charms?"

"assignment."

"oh-"

"yes."

"charms assignment that you need me to help you with?"

"obviously,"

"ah fine," you eyes slowly averted to the smile of none other that remus lupin. your mind goes fuzzy all of a sudden. he was joking and laughing with james in front of the fireplace. "he looks so happy today," you whispered to yourself, smiling.

"aww, you care about his happiness! just make out already," marlene said, wiggling her thick brows.

"that's one step beyond. not ethical," you shook your head in a mocking manner. "where's lily by the way? is she up here already?"

marlene shrugged as she opened the door to the dormitory, letting the warm air hit both of their faces.

later that night, you were helping marlene out on the charms essay and let's just say... it wasn't going as planned.

"marl, it's not how it is. you have to read the whole thing first then make your own summary about it so professor flitwick won't accuse you of plagiarism."

"but there's too many! why isn't there a charms to shorten paragraphs," she whined like a child on the sidewalk when their moms didn't get ice cream.

"liliana, help me over here. marl doesn't want to read,"

"i doing my eye mask, can't stand up," she reasoned stupidly.

"eye masks stick to your under eyes. yes you can stand up without them falling off. i wish remus was here, he can probably summarise four pages in just two minutes, he's incredibly smart," you closed your little tired eyes.

"if remus was here, he wont be teaching me anything, he would be too busy with you," marlene scoffed, although she is teasing.

"that's right," lily agreed. "remember this morning when [y/n] dropped mashed potatoes on his head? he didn't even blame her! he was blushing."

"also in dada, didn't you see remus was basically mumbling a mantra to be partnered up with [y/n], that's so sweet," marlene continued in a teasing voice, her charms assignment completely tossed of to the side.

you think to yourself, a conversation about remus late at night is way more interesting than charms. so you didn't budge. "aw yea he did, i saw," you cheeks turned crimson as you smile.

"isn't he just so... beautiful? i never look at anyone- except for my barbie dolls when i was five- this way. he is just right in every way."

"mhmmm keep going my love," marlene replied, after noticing a slight crack in the door with the marauders behind it. they were appalled when marlene saw them but marlene stays quiet, sending a wink their way.

at first, they were up here because james wanted to return lily's hair clip in which the boy slyly stole during class for this moment. but the others insisted to go up to see her reaction for some reason.

remus wouldn't complain though. he got to hear what the girl he loves for so much has to say bout him when he's not around.

your back was facing the door with your legs crossed over your chest and you hugging them. "his face may be pretty, but i think his heart is way prettier. for god's sake he holds my hand when i was anxious for that history presentation! he knows my needs so well."

"yes, that's so kind of him," lily urged for you to continue so she can tease you about it the next morning in front of remus lupin.

"and the best part is, remus respects women! he treats me like how i treat the girls and women around me. that's the hottest thing a guy could ever do," you dazed out, burying your face in between your kneecaps.

"ugh we love a respectful king, don't we girls!" marlene said purposely loud so remus can hear the conversation wide and clear from the door. his eyes were basically making heart eyes at the back of your head, his smile is like he had just won a contest and to hide that would be so dishonest.

"i told you to get her on a date sooner, she is the one!" sirius nudged remus rather harshly, but he was too focused on you.

"but what i don't like about him is the fact that he thinks he's not worthy of anything. he is. he deserves the biggest apology and happiness there ever was. he is like a moon river. i would roll my ship at night just to see the sparkles that he got. my huckleberry friend."

"isn't that enough to confirm that [y/n] loves you back, remus?" marlene shouted, her vision straight to the door.

your eyes widened in panic as your blood rushed into your cheeks. was remus hearing all of this? oh no freaking way- he can't be!

the door swung open, revealing the marauders who were standing with their jaws on the floor.

"i'm going out," lily spoke up, slipping out the door with james running after her like a lost puppy.

"you better do something," marlene winked at remus as she pushed him inside the room. remus nodded numbly, processing on what just happened. marlene was already dragging sirius down to give their friends privacy.

"hey, can i come in?"

"gosh i'm so sorry you heard all of that! you don't understand how embarrassing it is for me right now. i wish to disappear!" you scrunched your face, mortified by what his reactions may be.

"listen, uh, what you said were- it really makes me happy that you think of me that way because... so do i! i've been scared to say anything because i just- wasn't sure if you like me that way or not..."

"well, you heard it... what am i going to do now," you whispered the last part under your breath.

lucky for remus, he's got super hearing powers due to his lycanthropy so he heard that as clear as the sky is blue. "we can do what girlfriend and boyfriend do," remus answered shyly, playing with the end of your blanket that dropped from your bed.

"excuse me ma'am, you haven't asked me for dinner yet and now we're girlfriend and boyfriend?" you said in a joking manner to ease the tension out.

"okay let's do baby steps. come here, m'love, want to hold my girl," he opened his arms with his eyes closed. does he even know how cute he is right now?

#x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin fic

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gods-favorite-autistic · 3 months

Text

Fantasy high headcanons let’s gooooo

Fhjy spoilers, long post so it goes ✨under the cut✨

Weekly sleepovers but that’s a given

Somewhere in one of the rooms in Mordred the Bad Kids all carved their names somewhere

Kristen and Fig have an entire corner of the Mordred living room designated as the ‘Secret Service Corner’

Riz is so good at shoplifting to the point that every time they go shopping Sklonda just keeps shooting glances at Riz’s hands to make sure he isn’t taking something or thinking about taking something

She has an entire pocket of her purse dedicated to distraction fidget toys because he can’t shoplifting if he doesn’t have anything to shoplift with

Fig perfected her screamo voice over the summer before freshman year (yknow the one where she was really pissed at her mom. Yeah that summer)

If Fabian ever needs advice on anything his go tos are Riz and Cathilda

Anytime one of the Bad Kids get a call in the middle of the night they just assume it’s Riz

Adaine is the only one allowed to ignore texts and calls and that’s only because she just uses the Message spell to respond to people

Kristen learned Morse code to talk to Fig in class

Fig does not know Morse code but by Cass she can pretend she does

After dropping out Fig will occasionally just shift into different fake students and drop by the others classes

The party always knows its her but nobody else ever does

The freshman thinks it’s a myth (legendary rockstar who dropped out of the school and is being hunted by the school just randomly shows up to classes she has never been enrolled in even when she did go there) but the seniors keep being like “no I swear to god I saw her at lunch earlier she’s gonna be in my class today I know it”

Agent Clark is always hunting her

Kristen Applebees has POTS and Ehlers Danlos Syndrome because I said so she my special girl

Gorgug has made each of the Bad Kids a playlist

And now for a list of things the party has banned Kristen “dex score of 3” Applebees from doing

Playing on Fabian’s DDR machine

Driving

Baking (cooking is fine though)

Skateboarding

Anything involving putting her on wheels

Juggling (you’d think this wouldn’t be a problem but she did try to once. It did not go well)

Any type of stitches that Riz would be capable of

A lot of Wii games

Just Dance

She also sucks at fantasy Mario Kart but nobody can figure out if it’s the low dex or if she’s just bad at the game

The story of the DDR machine is that once Fig and Kristen challenged each other to a DDR battle to the death and Kristen danced so hard she broke an arm

That was a fun call to Jawbone /s

Adaine once gave Gorgug one of those motivational cat posters except she changed the words to say it’s Gorgug keep going

He genuinely loves it it was one of the things he took with him when he went to go live with Fabian

They’re all neurodivergent because I’m neurodivergent and I said so

Adaine weekly has to take another pair of noise cancelling headphones out of her jacket because Kristen keeps losing hers

Kristen and Adaine are the only two who know how to properly cook

Gorgug is decent at it but he mainly just follows recipes

Riz and Fabian are banned from the kitchen

Fig hasn’t even tried to cook ever everyone knows it wouldn’t end well

Kristen swears she figured out how to make cottage cheese ice cream

She just froze cottage cheese and called it a day

Riz is constantly on hire by Fig to find Bobby Dawn

He found him like a day after he was hired (Bobby Dawn really isn’t that smart) and he told Fig exactly where he was but she just keeps vaguely bothering him

Her goal is to make him think he’s haunted

Riz refuses to take free money from Fabian so Fabian just keeps paying him insane amounts to do the easiest things

1000 gold pieces to make him 1 cup of coffee

Adaine figured out how to do the whole eyes rolling back and glowing thing on command so when someone pisses her off she just casts fly on herself does that says random words and then casts scatter on the person who pissed her off

They all love shrimp and they all love cottage cheese but they absolutely resolutely agree that combined they are fucking terrible

Aguefort does an “everyone gets a a familiar” day

Riz picks a fox

Kristen gets 5 snakes. People try to tell her she only gets one familiar but who is going to argue with the most talented cleric like ever wielding 5 snakes

Fabian picks a parrot and gives him a little eyepatch

Gorgug picks a straight up fucking bear

#autism (mads) speaks #dimension 20 #fantasy high #fhjy #fantasy high junior year #the bad kids #riz gukgak #adaine abernant #fabian aramais seacaster #fabian seacaster #kristen applebees #gorgug thistlespring #fig faeth #d20 #d20 fantasy high #fhjy spoilers #dimension 20 fhjy

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2-fast-2-curious · 2 years

Text

Motorsport Audio Masterlist Perez-Zhou

Albon-Lawson

Leclerc-Ocon

Male Listener Audios

Sergio Perez

[M4A] Your BF Remembers You of Your Worth

[M4F] [Script Fill] Patience, Pretty Pet

Oscar Piastri

[M4F] [Script fill] Worshipping You After Your Workout [BFE]

[M4F] Aussie Snuggles with his American Girlfriend, pillow talk, leads to intense sex

All About Your Pussy

[M4F] Your Horny Boyfriend Gives You Head At Your Parents’ House

[M4F] You have one (1) missed call(s)

Fabio Quartararo

[M4F] Get On the Bed

Kimi Raikkonen

[M4F] JOI by your Soft Dom

Daniel Ricciardo

[M4F] Our First Time Getting Rough

[M4F] “Morning Darlin”

[M4F][Script Fill] Why Didn't We Fuck Before I Left?

[M4F] Kiss And Make Up

[M4F] Reminding You That You're Mine (full version)

[M4F] Bets and Promises

[M4F] Seaside Rendezvous

[M4F] Your First Time

Hiding in the Closet With Your Brother’s Best Friend

M4A-Come-To-Bed-Baby

M4A-Its-Bedtime-Darling

You-are-beautiful-ambient

[M4F] Lucky girl

[M4F] Fall Asleep On Daddy's Cock

[M4F] Just Relax For Me

[M4F] Your BF Discovers Your Dirty Secret... and Becomes Your New Daddy

[M4F] he's drunk and horny and trying so hard to stay quiet

[M4F] Revisiting Your Italian Lessons

[M4A] Your Brain Is Lying To You

[M4A] Your Pause Button

[M4A] Everything Will Be Alright, Darling

My Needy Obedient Girl

[M4F] Cuddle Fuck

[M4F] Pussy Appreciation

Period Comfort SFW

[M4F] Trying to quietly sleep with friend's sister.

[M4F] [Script fill] Ski Lodge Shenanigans

George Russell

[M4F] Babe, Do you want me to be your Daddy? I saw your browser history

Why Can't You Be Mine Instead?

Dominated By Your Brothers, Gigantic Friend

[M4F] [Script Fill] [Mdom] [British Accent][DD/lg] [Possessive] [Spanking] [Punishment] [Jealous Partner] [Wet Sounds]

[M4F] My little girl gets punished for using a toy behind daddy's back.

[M4F] - Back Row Cinema

Falling in Love on the Ferris Wheel

[M4F] I have to have you...NOW

[M4F] You Should Be Sleeping now

[Script Fill] [M4F] Don't Look Away From Me

[M4A] [M4F] I Offer You Dreams

[M4F] [M4A] I care about you

[M4A] [M4F] Rest, Love

(M4F) Morning Love Making and Cuddling - British Boyfriend Role Play

[Size Kink][Size Difference][Mdom][At the Gym][Spotting Your Squat]

[M4F] Learning how to please my new boss 😇

[M4F] [Script Fill] Kitchen Shenanigans

[M4F] 😟😟 Please help me mommy, I can't sleep

Table for Two

[M4F] [Script Fill] Ghostface Reckons You’re Not That Smart, Detective

Your BF calms you down after a nightmare

[M4F] The Professor Explains "Power Fantasies" To You After Class

[M4F] Good Girls Feel Better

M4F - Good girls go back to sleep - sfw audio pillowtalk

M4F] Cupcake for my little Cupcake [Script fill]

[M4F] I can't believe nobody invited you to the prom!

[M4F] You've had a long day, let your good boy take care of you

[M4F] Good Girls Ask for What They Want

[M4F] Why are you jacking me off while I try to sleep bro

[M4F] Driving Through The English Countryside With(Out) Your Sundress On

Carlos Sainz Jr

[M4F] The Spanish Lifeguard Asks You Out

[M4F] You discover your housemate is really good with his fingers!

Hispanic Guy New in Town

Lip Service: Sabor a Tí

[M4A] Your BF Tells You What He Loves About Your Body

[M4F] Para Ti:Audio en Español

[M4F] Midnight Impulse: A Night of Passion

Noche de lluvia [M4F]

Logan Sargeant

[M4F] Secretly Fucking Your Best Friend's Younger Brother After a Sleepover

You Must be Haunting Me

[M4F] Watching A Sex Scene with Your Friend Goes Way Too Far

[M4F] Sneaking Into Your High School Friend's Room Four Years Later

Mick Schumacher

[M4F] Hold the moan

[M4F] Lazy mornin’ cuddlefuck

[M4F] Cockwarming In Your New Sundress

[M4F] A Bet is a Bet. [Mdom]

[M4F] A Bet is a Bet Too [Msub]

[M4F] Anxiety Comfort [Cuddles] [L-bombs] [Kissing]

[M4F] Sleep Aid for a good girl

[M4F] Ice cream & Belly rubs

[M4F] 10 Minutes of Pussy Eating

Confession practice while you're asleep

[M4F] I came back to breed you!

"Untie Me...No, Wait, Fuck Me!"

[M4F] Midnight

The Barb Wire Killer

[M4F] Simple Encouragements!

[M4F][Request fill] You have done great!

[M4F][Request Fill] Dommy Pillowtalk

[M4F] Your German FWB Helping You Recuperate From A Night At The Oktoberfest

Andrew Showlin

[M4F][Script Fill] Right Here Waiting for You

Lance Stroll

[M4F] Fucked & Spanked at the Party

[M4F] Your Wedding Night With The Enemy Prince

[M4F] Sit on my face.. if I die, I die

[M4F] I'd love to be inside of you

[M4F] We're out of gas, so I should fill you?

I Don’t Want You to Think

[M4F] Your Lycan Boyfriend Ravages You On Full Moon’s Night

[M4F] Are You Feeling Like A Good Girl Again?

[M4F] The Best Birthday Present

loving boyfriend helps you relieve stress

[M4F] Submissive Moans for Mommy <3

[M4F] Gentle Daddy pets your pussy until you stop crying

[M4F] Gaming with your boyfriend

[M4F] Snowstorms, Cold Lips, Burning Bodies

[M4F] Gossip in the Office

[M4F] Running Late

Yuki Tsunoda

[M4F] Netflix and sleep

Fish tacos

[M4A] comforting to know

Max Verstappen

I'm Going To Fuck You How I Want...And How You Need

Couchsleeping

[M4F] [Script fill] A Lesson

Sebastian Vettel

[M4F] [Script Fill] To Pitch a Tent

[M4F] Welcome to Germany

Nursing the nurse

Cumming back (repost)

Just a quick ramblefap <3

[M4F] A Pleasure to Serve

[M4F] "I'll Choose You"

[M4F] Don't Laugh, but I gotta Tell You Something

[M4F] [SCRIPT FILL] "I Want To Fuck A Baby Into You."

[M4F] Msub going dominant (but failing miserably) [Ramblefap]

[M4F] This Is How I Picture Our First Time

[M4A]What is a train? [Relaxation][Train][Slow][Sleep-aid][SFW][German Accent]

[M4F] Telling you how to touch yourself

Reading and describing a German children's picture book

Snuggles

[M4F] It's Always the Shy Ones

[M4F] Quiet Period Cuddles

[M4F] The Care I Need

[M4F] we can stay in bed all day, as long as you don't cum

[M4F] ramblefap first try

[M4F] Little cuddlefuck for my babygirl

[M4f] [Script Fill] Roommates: Cooling Off

[M4F] [Script Fill] You Don't Need Him

[M4F] Desperate for your touch

[M4F] Promise Me You Didn’t See That

James Volwes

[M4F] Leave Him for Me

Mark Webber

[M4F] No I am so tired

[M4F] [fingered against the wall]

Susie Wolff

[F4F] [F4A] Help me decorate the tree

Toto Wolff

[M4F] Your Manager want you in his office

[M4F] [Script Fill] Daddy Trap

[M4F] Teasing Your Bookworm Boyfriend into Morning Sex

Keep relaxing, babygirl

I’m not going anywhere

You Are Not Your Mistakes

[M4F] Snowed in with only one bed

That Time We Went House Hunting

Your boyfriend's dad helps you during No Nut November

I love the thought of everything happening in public

[M4F] Don't Keep Daddy Waiting

[M4F] Letting Go of Control

[M4F] [Script Fill] Catch My Eye

Zhou Guanyu

[M4A][Script Fill] Please let me take care of you.

[M4F] [Script Fill] You don’t have to hold it all in.

#christine recommends audios #lance stroll #sebastian vettel #mick schumacher #carlos sainz jr #george russell #fabio quartararo #yuki tsunoda #zhou guanyu #toto wolff #james vowles #max verstappen #logan sargeant #daniel ricciardo #kimi raikkonen #oscar piastri #sergio perez

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bluecollarmcandtf · 1 year

Text

Influencer Island

Isn't this generation the worst! My family's resort used to be a peaceful retreat, but now it's crawling with whiney influencers who spend their time staring at their phones and ignoring our service. All of them are rude and obnoxious to the staff, but I have a new plan for every entitled brat I find.

"Hey you!" a snide call comes my direction.

He's lean, muscular, and emerging from the tropical shrubbery of the hotel's expansive gardens. The guy is clearly a fitness YouTuber, and he's just returned from a sweaty jog. His body seems to be the only thing on his mind, because he flaunts it in front of me without even glancing in my direction.

"Grab me a towel," he insists and brushes past, "This place is humid as hell."

A bored look sits on his face as he begins routinely stretching the toned legs inside those tiny shorts. The guy actually scoffs and looks offended when he realizes I haven't raced off to fetch his towel. It's the first time he's actually looking in my direction, and I can practically feel the sense of entitlement dripping off of him.

"Dude, I want a towel. The air on your island is wet and gross," he slowly repeats, like I must be an idiot who can't understand.

"Shut up about the humidity, Carlos!" my anger gets the best of me, but I finally put my diabolical plan in place.

"Who the hell is Carlos?"

For the first time, the influencer's smug face flashes to one of confusion. He doesn't believe someone like me would talk to him like this, let alone call him the wrong name.

"Carlos is the new gardner," I explain in a spiteful voice, "He's hard-working, he's humble, and he isn't bothered by the wet muggy air one bit!"

The athletic social media star looks completely taken aback now. He's retreated from my barrage of words, but there's no escaping the transformation he's already undergoing.

His revealing shorts rapidly unfold into a more coarse material that extends over his shoulders, forming a baggy pair of working overalls. Our hotel staff polo pops up beneath the straps of his workwear and leather gloves appear on his hands.

"How...?" he quietly gasps, "What am I wearing?"

"Carlos isn't very smart, but he makes up for it by shutting up and working hard. Don't you, Carlos?" I continue, "You spend all day in this disgustingly humid air, trimming bushes, pulling weeds, and manicuring the shit out of this garden. It's the only thing you're really good for. Isn't that right, Carlos?"

"Yeah," the former jock answers numbly.

A name tag appears over his chest, sealing his identity as Carlos the gardner. His face ages and takes on the character of a Hispanic local. His once youthfully lean body expands outward, filling his new uniform with a layer of fatherly pudge. This guy looks like he's spent his entire life working on this island. I know he'll spend the rest of it here too.

"Get back to work, Carlos, and don't let me catch you taking a break again," I say.

"Yes, Señor," he answers humbly, turning to a wheelbarrow full of mulch right beside him.

I watch sweat glisten on Carlos' forehead as he dumps the wood chips and rakes them around the plants. I note the damp air already permeating his heavy uniform before leaving and stepping inside the hotel lobby.

The interior of my family's hotel is quite grand and luxurious, but it's Mediterranean architecture creates an atmosphere of culture and class. Unfortunately, not many of my younger guests have the same culture and class. Approaching the front desk, I find a handsome young man in a vehement debate with the concierge. Apparently, his room was not up to his standards.

"Do you know who I am?" he asks tersely.

"I have 300k followers on TickTock! Everyone sees my travel vlog, so don't piss me off," he demands loudly.

My employee working the front desk looks overwhelmed and exhausted. Guests should never verbally assault my staff. This guy needs to learn how to behave at my hotel.

"So you're the famous influencer!" I jump to the defense before voices are raised any further, "We of course prepared a premier experience for you and your followers."

The entitled TickTocker's eyes roll but he seems relieved that somebody is finally treating him as he believes he deserves. I send a comforting wink to the concierge before gracefully escorting the rude guest away from the front.

"About time," he clicks his tongue, "That bellboy could barely speak English. You'd think a supposed luxury resort would be a bit more accommodating."

"I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, sir. How may we be of service to you?"

"Well to start, my room faces the forest. I booked one with a view of the ocean," he explains, missing my blatant sarcasm.

I'm done playing around.

"Come on, Jose. You don't care about looking out windows," I correct him, "Just cleaning them."

The young man stares back at me like he's just been insulted. He can't believe I have the audacity to call him by the wrong name.

"I'm not Jose," he snaps.

"Sure you are," I go on, "You're the Jose I've always known. The Jose that keeps his head down and gets his work done. The Jose that is quiet and respectful with the guests."

"That's not me," he growls, frustratedly denying it.

"I know there's a bit of a language barrier, Jose, but come on. Just look at yourself!"

The influencer narrows his eyes before nervously glancing down. As he does, his crisp white shirt fades to an old blue color. The buttons latch themselves all the way up to the base of his neck as the shirt tail stitches itself seamlessly with his pants of a now identically worn material.

"What I have on!" he gasps with an awkward inflection.

"Jose, it's your uniform," I laugh, "You're the hotel janitor! You wear coveralls, buddy."

"Estoy el janitor?" he questions with a heavy new accent, but his mind is already accepting the new role.

His eyes glazed over as he pulls out a pair of rubber gloves from his back pocket. He slips them on like it's second nature, and a uniform cap appears on his head of dark hair. The final touch of a name tag reading 'Jose' slides over the breast of his coveralls, cementing the reality of his new life.

"Jose," I say slowly.

"Sí, jefe?" he seems to snap out of an idle daze.

"You know your not supposed to loiter in the lobby unless you are cleaning."

"Lo siento, señor."

Jose fishes a rag and spray bottle out of his pocket to act busy wiping down different surfaces in the lobby. He keeps casting nervous glances in my direction as I supervise his work.

"Jose."

"Sí," he returns to my side like an eager puppy.

"The staff bathroom has a clog in it. Take care of that and the rest of the staff area. You can clean the lobby tonight when guests aren't here," I instruct.

"Por supuesto, jefe," he nods and shuffles through a staff-only door to the rear of the building.

Thank God I took that pretentious jerk down a peg. Thanks to me, the hotel has one less raving social media nut and one more quietly dedicated janitor. He'll certainly help clean up after all the other careless youths who make a mess everywhere they go.

Patting myself on the back for a job well done, I leave the lobby and head deeper into the building and towards the kitchens.

"Excuse me?" a wandering voice calls from down a hall.

An exasperated sigh blows out of my nostrils. Am I really about to deal with another entitled young man again?

"You shouldn't be down here, sir," I explain impatiently, "This is a staff-only area."

"Oh, I know," he throws his hands up in mock surrender, "My family owns a hotel back home, so I just like to check out the behind-the-scenes when I travel different places."

"Well, then you know hotel staff could use less distractions in their work space," I retort.

The young man doesn't seem to understand my frustration. He throws his hands in his pockets and slumps his shoulders.

"I just like to see how the employers of hotels treat their employees," he defends himself, "Especially in a place like this."

"What do you mean a place like this?"

"You know," he continues, "Foreign countries don't have all the protections for the working class that America has. I wouldn't be surprised if this hotel took advantage of the natives."

"You think I take advantage of the people from this island?" I shake my head in utter disbelief.

"Well, maybe," he goes on, "I write a blog about-"

"Let me stop you there," I cut him off, "You know I don't take advantage of the locals because you are one, Pedro."

"I'm not Pedro. Does he work here?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Yup. Pedro started working down here about four years ago. He was so excited to get a decently paying job," I explain, "He reminds me of yourself, only he keeps his hair neat and trim, the way a good employee should."

The young man seems interested in my story but doesn't seem to realize it's about him. His oversized Hawaiian shirt slowly tightens into a fitted jumpsuit while thin gloves glide over his hands. Meanwhile, his wildly long hair shrinks into a head of neatly cropped black curls.

"Pedro doesn't leave the basement too often, but he doesn't mind because he is so excited to finally have a consistent source of income. His bedroom is right around that corner, actually."

"Really," the guy asks dreamily, completely unaware of the uniform cap that's dropped over his new haircut.

"You're Pedro."

"I'm Pedro," he agrees without resistance, and a name tag materializes over his yellow coveralls, finalizing his transformation.

"Pedro," I say, "I know it's nice to catch up, buddy, but don't you have a lot of work to do?"

Pedro glances down the hall towards the laundry room. "Your right, sir," he responds with a new accent.

"A lot of guests arrived today, and I heard quite a few of them put in requests for clothes to be laundered and pressed."

"I'm on it, sir," he assures me.

My newest employee races to find an empty laundry hamper and starts rolling it down the hallway. The idiot is rolling the laundry bin towards the guest elevators in the front of the building.

"Come on, Pedro!" I call.

"Yeah, sir?"

"Son, use the service elevator in the back," I remind him, "The front ones are for guests. You know that."

"Right! Sorry, sir," he shakes his head and turns around, lugging the hamper in the opposite direction.

Pedro climbs on the old elevator and hits the button. Rusted machinery groans to life, pulling the laundry boy and his hamper slowly up to the top floor.

I take a seat and rest in the service corridor. It's been a long day of transforming insufferable influencers into good employees. Their absence will no doubt improve the atmosphere of my hotel greatly, but I may need to consider expanding the business if I keep taking on so many new workers...

#gay hypnosis #hypno story #gay mind control #male transformation #servant #hypnotized #gay ai art #mind control

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marshmellowrio · 13 days

Text

Semblance of Control | Chapter 4

Word count: 2.2K

Semblance of Control Masterlist

"Welcome to your first Battle Brief." Professor Devera's voice fills the entire lecture hall. All cadets seem to be present for this class. First years in the front, second years behind them and third years fill in the empty spaces or stand in the back of the room.

"In the past, riders have seldom been called into service before graduation,” Professor Devera continues, pacing in front of the huge map of the Continent mounted on the wall behind her.

Colette focuses on the map, looking for the places she knows, all the while keeping one ear on Professor Devera, who continues talking in the background. The young woman’s eyes zero in on the Deaconshire province, a little under the bright pin of Basgiath and slightly tot the right. Where she knows Ruel is situated.

Once she’s found Ruel, she moves on to the right, more down on the map. Hoping her aunt and uncle are all right in Sumerton. They taught her everything she needs to know to survive on top of what she knew from her parents. But still, the turbulences along the border were already worrisome by the time she left for Basgiath. And they showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

“First topic of the day.” When Professor Devera flicks her hand, a mage light appears directly over the eastern border with the Braevick province.

Guess this class will let me know how my aunty Kenhan and uncle Dey are doing.

“The Eastern Wing experienced an attack last night near the village of Chakir by a drift of Braevi gryphons and riders.”

Murmurs rise in the hall, Colette’s not surprised though. That village lies right on the border of the two Kingdoms. The only thing that bothers her is the use of the gryphons. She frowns, Chakir is even higher up in the mountains than Sumerton, and they already avoid that altitude. They shouldn’t be at risk of being attacked by gryphon riders.

Six years later and they’re still not giving riders the full truth? The public, that is understandable, but these people here are going to face the real dangers. Colette glances behind her to the third years, nothing in their faces gives away that they know more. Not even the Marked Ones, their faces the picture of neutrality. They have to know though, right?

She turns back to the front, ignoring Violet’s whispering beside her. Colette puts her hand up in the air with confidence, effectively grabbing Professor Devera’s attention. “Cadet?”

“Why Chakir?” The dark brunette feels dumb the moment the question leaves her mouth, definitely not how she meant to word it. The snickers around her only confirm how she sounded.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out here, cadet.” Professor Devera starts to turn away, but stops when she hears Colette’s voice again.

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Her eyes dart to the faces around her. “Well, I’ve lived in those mountains. It’s high up and I’ve always been told gryphons don’t do well at high altitudes. So it seems an unlikely target, hence my question.”

“You’re right, it is an unlikely target. Cadet Sorrengail, do you have something to add?”

Violet’s head snaps up from whispering to Rhiannon. She squirms in her seat but takes the challenge. “As cadet Wilder said, gryphons aren’t as strong at that altitude and neither is their ability to channel.” She says. “It’s an illogical place for them to attack unless they knew the wards would fail, especially since the village looks to be about what… an hour’s flight from the nearest outpost? That is Chakir right there, isn’t it?”

Colette raises an eyebrow at her neighbour, she had heard she was trained to be a scribe and being the General’s daughter probably helped her along. As prejudiced that may be. But damn, this woman is smart.

“It is,” Professor Devera’s lips start forming a little smirk. “Keep going with that line of thought.”

“Didn’t you say it took an hour for the squad of riders to arrive?”

Colette frowns, looking at the map. Her frown deepens when she hears Professor Devera’s affirmative answer.

“Then they were already on their way,” Violet blurts out, Colette nodding in agreement from beside her.

She stays quiet during Barlowe’s degrading words, instead focusing on the map. Calculating how much time would be needed before a squad arrived at the scene. Violet relays what she figured out a minute later, not only the gryphon riders knew the wards were failing. The dragons did as well.

“She’s right,” A hush falls over the room at Devera’s words. “One of the dragons in the wing sensed the faltering ward, and the wing flew. Had they not, the casualties would have been far higher and the destruction of the village much worse.”

When the second- and third-years take over, Colette summarizes all the different questions and answers. Marking the ones she thinks are interesting or weird.

Wingleader Riorson’s question intrigued her, even though Devera’s comment on the state of the village was made in the beginning of the lesson. He still remembered and thought it important enough to bring up again.

Colette thinks she’ll finally have the answers to why Chakir was attacked, but is quickly disappointed when the Professor admits they don’t know what they were searching for.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Assessments are in full swing, literally, fists are swinging left and right. But Colette’s gaze is fixed on Rhiannon and Tynan’s match. Seems like the women are on a winning streak today. Aurelie won the previous match from Ridoc and Rhiannon seems to have the upper hand right now as well.

Colette watches both of their moves, Rhiannon moves quick and packs one hell of a punch. Tynan’s good but too angry, he fights with his emotions, not his head. Rhiannon asks him to yield, he declines and tries to take her down. Only to wind up in the same position again with Rhiannon adjusting her position so he can’t get out of her hold again.

“I don’t know, Tynan, you might want to yield.” Their Squad Leader comments. “She’s handing you your ass.”

“Fuck off, Aetos!” Tynan snaps in return.

Wrong choice, buddy.

Rhiannon presses down further on his throat, turning his face red.

“He yields,” Emetterio, their teacher, calls out. Rhiannon backs away, offering her hand and her peace. Tynan takes it and both of them take their places at the edge of the mat.

“You,” Emmeterio points to Colette, “And you. Let’s see what you can do.” He points to Sawyer next.

Both cadets step up to the mat, taking each other in.

Handle him like a second-year, because in hand-to-hand, he is. He’s been here for a year, he probably has some tricks up his sleeve.

The fight moves quickly once the two get close enough to each other. Sawyer dodges her first attempt and counters quickly with a punch to the nose. Colette staggers back. Feeling the end of the mat with the heel of her foot. She goes in again with another hit to his jaw, which he blocks. Her hand throbs as it comes into contact with Sawyer’s wrist. She doesn’t let it linger and immediately follows up with a jab to his diaphragm with her other hand. Expelling all the air from his lungs. Sawyer gasps and one arm clutches his stomach.

Colette takes the chance to send a kick to the side of his knee. Bringing him to his knees, while she’s already moving behind him. She twists one arm behind his back, bringing it uncomfortably high. And grabs him in a headlock with her other arm, tilting his head. She drives her knee into the middle of his back, and sends her opponent to the mat. His face smacks against the mat. Colette releases his arm and braces her weight on her knees and elbows while tightening her hold on his neck and head. Now bringing up her other hand to secure the position.

Sawyer attempts one last time to get out but between the knee crushing his spine and the unnatural position she holds his head, he’s got no way out. So he taps out.

Colette releases the hold she has on him, stepping aside and offering him a hand up. “I didn’t expect you to go that hard.” He grins at her, rubbing his wrist.

“Oh, don’t worry, you got me as well.” She smiles right back at him, her nose bright red from the hit it took.

They reach the sidelines when Emetterio calls Imogen and Violet to the mat.

“Yeah, maybe a tip for next time. Go for the nose of the eye. You’ll do a lot more damage than a jaw.” He gives her a wink before he walks off to his friends.

The woman nods in thought and notices Liam, the blond from yesterday sitting on the next mat over. She walks over and sits down beside him.

“Good job.” He greets her.

“Thanks,” she smiles at him. “You already done?”

“Yeah, easy.” He nods to a scrawny cadet with a bruised cheek and blood gushing out of his nose, onto his shirt. “I didn’t even hit him that hard.”

Colette grimaces at the sight, “Oof.”

“Would you like to train with me some time? It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent opponent.” Liam bumps his shoulder against hers with a grin.

She snorts, “Decent, huh.” She smiles at him. “Yeah, I’m up for learning some new tricks.” Her smile quickly drops when the sound of bone snapping grabs their attention to Emmeterio’s mat.

Violet lies on the mat with Imogen hovering over her, still holding on to the arm she just broke. The Squad Leader pushes her out of the way and pulls Violet in his arms. He has the sense to ask, “Permission to take her to the Healers?” and barely waits for Emmeterio’s nod before taking off.

Liam and Colette exchange a glance before continuing to chat and planning their next training session.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

In the weeks that follow Colette starts to get ready for the challenges that she will have to go through. She joins Rhiannon every other day in helping Violet get better on her feet, not that they can do much since she’s been in a sling since assessment. The days in between she actually trains with Liam, their training varies between actual sparring and muscle maintenance.

After a couple of training sessions Liam invites someone he knows to give them some more pointers, as he explained to Colette in the beginning of their training.

“So this is who you’ve been spending your precious free time with?” A tall male enters the gym, the doors banging shut behind him.

Colette stops her squats and wipes at the sweat gathering on her forehead. She takes in the man while Liam goes up to him to greet him. His dark hair tousled and covering his forehead. Her eyes move down to meet his hazel green eyes, twinkling with the mage lights hovering overhead.

He’s handsome.

“Glad you could make it, Bodhi.” Liam says, pulling away from the man in question. He walks over to where Colette is standing. “Coco, this is Bodhi Durran. Bodhi, this is Colette Wilder.” He gestures to them both while speaking.

“Quite the legacy you’ve got going, Wilder.” He nods to the mat, throwing his jacket to the side. “Let’s see what daddy Wilder taught you,” he comments while walking towards the mat.

Colette exchanges a look with Liam, raising her brows, but moving towards the mat all the same. She knew the guy for all of two minutes and he’s already questioning her father, while asking her to fight.

Before turning, Bodhi calls over his shoulder, “Or was it mommy?”

“If you want to fight me, just say so, you don’t gotta be mean about it.” The young woman retorts. He struck a chord there.

The two start circling each other on the mat, Liam taking his spot as neutral watcher.

“Look,” Bodhi’s voice drops to a whisper, only Colette able to hear him. “Just because Liam has decided to trust you, doesn’t mean I do. You’ll have to earn that.”

Colette doesn’t respond, but takes on the offensive. The match doesn’t last long. After getting in a couple of well-timed jabs, Bodhi quickly got the upper hand. A first year might be easy to beat for a second year, but he’s obviously been trained well before entering the Quadrant. He ends the fight by getting Colette on her back, limbs restrained in one way or another. She’s quick to analyse her non existent moves and taps out.

“Although you lost,” Bodhi starts, taking off his shirt and wiping away his sweat with it. “Consider me intrigued, Wilder.”

“Thank you?” Colette frowns at his retreating figure while he goes over to the weight station. Her eyes follow the rippling of the relic that covers the upper part of his shoulder blade.

Taglist: @siobhanbooks @hiraethjules @marauders-eras @l-a-u-r-aaa

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seungsuki · 4 months

Text

surprise detective - boarding a train and solving a case with your professor? (f!reader)

warning: murder of a person (if that counts)

note: part three coming soon <33

“holmes, who are these people?”, the man questioned

“the moriarty family’s second son, william, and his adoptive younger brother louis. you can just ignore the lady over there- ow!”, you kicked sherlock under the table when he said that

“fine, fine! she’s [name]. a student of william” sherlock rolled his eyes, almost making you kick him again had your professor not been beside you

“please excuse my interruption. lestrade of scotland yard, at your service”, the man introduced

“you are? i have heard so much about you-”

your professor was cut off by an ugly scream of a woman. alerted, you quickly looked back and got up on your feet and sprinted towards the sound. as you reached, a brown haired woman look like she had seen a ghost

“what’s wrong?’, you asked examining her pale face

the pale woman explained about hearing a loud sound from the neighbouring compartment ago. she came to see what the matter was before she cut herself off and pointed to the door window. you took it upon yourself and peeked through the window. a dead man with blood splattered everywhere making you want to gag in disgust.

“oh god you guys do not wanna see the drama behind this door”, you were grossed out, stepping back for sherlock to have a look too

“it’s locked”, the man from before exclaimed

“no shit sherlock- no wait that sounded bad”, you realised, choosing to keep quiet

“yeah, he’s dead. have a look”, sherlock gestured to your professor who confirmed it to be a murder

“so, liam, you have nothing to do before we reach london, do you? shall we have a contest to see who can find the culprit first?”, sherlock challenged the blonde man

“very well. this might be interesting”, william cut off lestrade

as your professor continued by talking about how complicated the case was, a man appeared behind sherlock with a face of pure shock. his coat was stained with blood and he clenched his right hand to the spot. before any questioning, the transport police arrive at the scene and you soon learnt that he was dr john h. watson.

you felt a tug on your sleeve that took you a few steps backwards to stand behind louis despite being so invested in the drama. you looked over to see that your professor had pulled you back. of course he did, he always did care about his students wellbeing and this was something that flared your heart even more. you could hear louis whisper to his brother to not interfere with the incident to which william reassured as an innocent life was being tainted with a murder title.

“i will give it my all to ensure that the moriarty name is not put to shame”, william said

“then it’s a contest to see who can deliver the culprit first!”, sherlock cheered

‘this isn’t a game’ the sane people in the room shared the same thought

“wow this sounds fun! well professor moriarty, i shall not ruin your fun. it was lovely talking to you and i can’t wait to see you again in class!”, you bid trying to leave the stuffy environment

“woah woah not so fast. you’re in this game too! you think i don't know you? your brother and i are old buddies so i gotta see if his smartness also applies to you. not that it actually did- owh again?!”, sherlock groaned as you elbowed his stomach

“no thank you! i am not a detective!”, you stated almost taking your leave

“i think it would be a great learning experience miss [name]. outside of classroom learning can benefit a lot”, william spoke

“right… like i’m gonna find the theta of the dead body”, you muttered to which louis let out a small chuckle

“let’s get to work”, sherlock said as he picked the lock to enter the cabin

“is this the moment where we have to look smart?”, you whispered to no one as you watched the two men stare without moving

sherlock began his investigation. he concluded that the dead man was a jeweller from london. you didn’t quite give a lot of attention to what he was saying as you were too busy staring at the whisky bottle discarded. where have you seen that?

“a drugged-robbery? then this is not just an ordinary murder??”, lestrade exclaimed

“unmistakably”, william resting his left hand on his chin

“isn’t that obvious?”, sherlock added

“clearer that my future if you ask me”, you commented to the man

sherlock went on to explain about the shoe prints. to which lestrade raised the question as to how he knew which print belonged to who? sherlock swiftly replied and pointed at william and your shoes

“look at the shoes of the maths professor and student from durham university”, sherlock pointed out

“yes. it was raining in durham”, william referred to the mud on both pairs of shoes

your professor continued talking about how the weather cleared at their stop in yolk. he then picked up the same whisky bottle you were staring at. he continued explaining things you simply tuned out and got up from the scene. quietly you walked out and louis looked at you in confusion

“figured it out miss [name]?”, louis asked

“something like that”, you lied and flashed a small smile before leaving

but you didn’t leave the scene. you stood not too far from the cabin talking to one of the crew members. simple conversations and handshakes now and then taught you many things. you were standing because of your professor.

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mitsvriii · 7 months

Text

out of touch

alhaitham/reader/kaveh

angsty fluff; more in notes, apart of "two people one heart"

notes: reader’s job has something to do with designs; not specified but goes along with that, some of it was rushed?? if the pacing is weird that’s why, reader is smart, no bimbo reader in this fic, kaveh is a himbo tho let’s be fr, the song’s meaning is about being misunderstood/disconnected in relationships so just trust the process with the pacing of that in this fic yet again, i did NOT expect this to exceed the word count in my head but the thoughts y’know, young al haitham’s characterization is different from present/in-game, not THAT familiar with his backstory but screw it we ball, idk how akademiya classes work bro 😭, screams into the void the PACING 😿, open ending 🤧, i actually hate this so much LMAO, turned out to be more platonic than romantic aiya,,,,,,

You could hardly believe that Kaveh and Al Haitham had managed to live together in high tensions for so long, especially since you had moved in with them and witnessed their antics. Financial decisions in your job weren’t exactly something that would lead you to have enough money to support yourself until you could make more. This is exactly why Al Haitham offered you the choice to stay at his house, or in his tantalizing words, “just one person helping someone else out of the goodness of his heart”.

Kaveh wasn’t the happiest person when Al Haitham offered you to stay with them, although it slipped your focus at that moment. It started grabbing your attention when you would often hear their hushed but harsh whispers when you tried to doze off at night, or the not-so-subtle glares they threw at each other over meals. You wondered if it was because one of them simply didn’t want you in his company or if you had done something wrong, but you soon found out that wasn’t the cause.

To put it simply, it wasn’t the fact that you had moved in or the fact that you were disturbing them at all, it was that they seemed to be in some sort of competition for your attention, or forgiveness. It was a small theory that you tested when you asked one of them to hand you a pen while sketching out a design. It would be absolutely correct to say that they both acted like two cats after a toy trying to hand one to you first.

It wasn’t just that occurrence either, ever since then the two of them seemed to have this little competition between the two of them to try to do as much as they could for you, despite your multiple inputs against it.

You supposed that maybe it was their way of saying “sorry”. Asks of service. You suppose that maybe rooming with two people who you had certain history with them didn’t help with their little competition of who would earn back your forgiveness first.

Kaveh and you had been friends since you were kids, ironically. After his father’s death, Kaveh had sought to spend more time with you rather than his mother. But in the end, you couldn’t blame him because she was quite a mess and wouldn’t even bother speaking half of the time, which wasn’t something you minded because she sounded so hoarse and blank that it made your ears hurt. You and Kaveh both enrolled in the Akademiya at the same time, you went into Vahumana while he went into Kshahrewar.

The first time you met Al Haitham was later on in the year when you were still having migraines over research reports and the struggle of having to memorize information out of twenty books at a time in the Akademiya instead of the source of them being Kaveh and Al Haitham themselves. You knew little about him other than words from the students' scattered whispers about him.

Apparently, despite being a kid on the quieter side, he was extremely intelligent and had enough knowledge stored within him that he could go toe-to-toe with Amurta’s know-it-all. You two were in different Darshans so it was no surprise that you didn’t know him all that well at first. However, he seemed to know some things about you.

You never questioned it, but you honestly had an idea that Kaveh may have rambled about you to him. You knew that Al Haitham and Kaveh had spent some of their spare days together and often spent time in the library in their spare time, but knew little about what their conversations consisted of.

A wish that often came across your mind was that you had spent more time with the two of them when you had your breaks instead of getting ahead in your work or going out to do things within the city. But the past was in the past and no amount of daydreaming about what could’ve been would happen.

Gradually Kaveh soon introduced you to Al Haitham in the library when you were on one of your breaks, the latter of which only nodded his head in greeting before going back to his writing. You brushed it off as one of his “antisocial qualities” before joining the two of them at the table in the library. Time faded as your days at Akademiya came to an end, the three of you growing closer together, though good things never lasted for long it seemed.

Kaveh seemed to get more distant as the years grew by, leaving you and Al Haitham to discuss possible scenarios of what happened. That seemed to be the unspoken question that hung on your lips but never came out. The thought had crossed your mind to ask Kaveh’s mother, but you didn’t want to stir up that hornet's nest if she had something to do with it.

It wasn’t until the next week that Al Haitham had sought you out to ask what exactly was happening, and he didn’t seem to take I don’t know for an answer, either. Apparently Kaveh had blown up in his face over a project, most likely the result of the buildup of his stress over the past few days, and so went their newfound friendship. With a sigh you were off to talk to Kaveh, who explained his reasoning with angry mumbles and refused to elaborate further. He didn’t talk to you until two weeks before graduation.

His mother wanted a fresh start. To move, to get out of Sumeru, wipe out the past; a clean slate. That included leaving him behind, too. Although you understood that he was hurting, it wasn’t a good excuse to hurt you and Al Haitham emotionally, either, however you didn’t bring that up because it was a somewhat miracle he was talking to you now.

He claimed he needed space so soon after the three of you graduated you didn't exactly stay in touch. You sought out to at least send each other letters but the only one that returned them was Al Haitham in all his glory. After a while, though, he too soon was busy with his own things. You didn’t question it and moved on yourself, too, the world wasn’t going to stop for you. But the three of you were now roommates so it was only a matter of time before the three of you talked about the big elephant in the room, right?

Right?

taglist: @keiiqq, @luvrkise, @hotanina

#astronetwrk #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#al haitham x reader #kaveh x reader #al haitham x you #kaveh x you #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin angst

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seijorhi · 2 years

Text

Undertow

A tokrev purge AU, as a treat :))

Kakucho x female reader, Kurokawa Izana x female reader

w.c 6.4k

tw: murder, blood & slight gore, implied non/dub-con, yandere themes

This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the annual Purge sanctioned by the Japanese Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorised for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Government officials of ranking ten have been granted immunity and shall not be harmed.

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for twelve continuous hours. Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m, when the Purge concludes.

Blessed be our new founding fathers and Japan; a nation reborn.

As the polite, female voice falls silent, klaxons ring out, blaring through the night.

Seven years now.

Five, since your brother decided to join the would be Purgers and never made it home. It never becomes normal, you never lose that fear. You do, however, learn the rules.

Stay home. Lock yourself away behind the reinforced shutters and doors, pretend that everything’s fine, that you can’t hear the screaming and gunshots, the violent chaos being gleefully wreaked outside. You put on some movies, music maybe, sit on your couch, swaddled in blankets with the volume too loud and pray that tonight won’t be the night that someone decides to test just how impenetrable the defences around your home truly are.

Arms encircle your waist, pulling you back against a firm chest. A kiss is pressed against your hair. “Babe, don’t look so worried. We’ll be fine. We always are.”

–Only this time, you’re not waiting out the Purge by yourself.

You exhale, Natsuya’s hold easing to allow you to turn and face him. He smiles at the pinched expression on your face, “We’re gonna be fine,” he repeats. “Now will you please come have a drink with me? The others are starting to wonder why my beautiful,” his lips meet your forehead, “smart,” the tip of your nose, “incredible girlfriend’s hiding herself away.”

He kisses your lips last of all, a sweet, gentle thing. Brushes your hair back from your face.

“No one’s getting through the security system, and even if they did, no one’s gonna hurt you, I’ll make sure of it.”

Yes, you’d caught an eyeful of the shotgun he’d been cleaning when you’d arrived. His friends undoubtedly have their own weapons stashed away, too. After all – there’s no such thing as a pacifist on Purge night.

It doesn’t ease your worry any, but you smile and nod for him, letting him tug you back to the lounge room where his friends and sister await.

Because what else does Purge night call for, if not a party?

Miyano – charming and roguish, long dark hair swept up into a bun – the first to greet you, passing you a shot of amber liquor with an easy wink. “Purge classic,” he tells you, referring to the drink, “it’s tradition – and a secret.”

You knock the shot back, wincing at the burn in your throat as it goes down. “Why does it taste like toothpaste?!”

“Disgusting, isn’t it,” Tomori, Natsuya’s sister and the only other girl present, says with a grimace.

Miyano looks mightily pleased with himself, Ayumu and Suwabe both snickering good naturedly. The two of them couldn’t be more different from each other. Suwabe’s short and stocky, Ayumu willowy-tall, blond and bespectacled, and yet one’s never far from the other.

Your boyfriend sneaks an arm around your waist, dutifully accepting his own with a rueful sigh.

“So you guys do this every Purge?”

Suwabe nods, “Yeah, for the past four or five years. It’s a shit night, we figured we might as well make the most of it together instead of stressing out about it alone.”

“And you’ve never been tempted to…?”

The three of them share a look, Suwabe shrugging, “What, to Purge? Ayumu and I went one year. Not to kill anyone or nothing,” he hastens to clarify at your wide eyed expression, “we wanted to rob his boss’s place.”

“The guy was an asshole. Rich as hell, too. We knew he wasn’t gonna be there, it seemed as good a time as any to try our luck,” the blond elaborates.

“And how’d that go for you?”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, we didn’t even make it onto the property. And it was fucked out there, not something I want a repeat of anytime soon.”

Your brother’s face flashes to mind, a pang striking deep in your chest. He’d made his choice, though, with intentions far less justifiable, and so you shove those feelings aside, tilting your face to meet Natsuya’s, “And no Purging for you?”

Intended as a joke, his fingers, resting comfortably above your hip, inexplicably twitch. “‘Course not.”

“The whole thing’s messed up. Who wants to go out and hunt people for fun?” Tomori snorts, passing you a glass of wine and pouring one for herself.

“Kind of a necessary evil, though, right?”

She meets her brother’s gaze with one raised, unimpressed eyebrow, “Oh c’mon, Nats, you can’t honestly tell me that you believe the Purge is in any way a good thing. Those who can afford it lock themselves away, and the poor pay the price. It’s chaos for the sake of chaos, the only difference between now and before is that alongside all the criminals who would’ve gone out looting and murdering anyway, the government’s convinced stupid, entitled dumbasses like those two,” she jerks her chin towards Ayumu and Suwabe, both suddenly fascinated with their drinks, “that killing and stealing and hurting other people is morally upstanding, and worse; fun.”

And so the conversation goes, as it always does. You nod and hum idly along with the others every now and then, nestled comfortably into Natsuya’s side while they argue back and forth, until– “Look, all I’m saying is that anyone who’s dumb enough to get themselves killed on Purge night probably isn’t a great loss to society anyway.”

The change in the air is palpable. Natsuya stiffens behind you, Tomori’s breath catching, her eyes immediately finding yours.

Figures that Natsuya told her.

And to Miyano’s credit, he seems to realise he’s misstepped even before your boyfriend’s growled, “Dude, shut the hell up.”

“Shit, that’s not what I– Fuck, I didn’t–” You raise a placating hand, and his mouth closes with an audible click.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I’m not gonna bite your head off,” you chuckle awkwardly, pretending that you don’t see Suwabe’s wince.

Still, his expression looks almost stricken, eyes darting between you and a disapproving Nats, and you feel a slight twinge of… something.

Miyano hadn’t said it to be spiteful.

What happened to your brother happens to hundreds every Purge – they leave the safety of their houses with the belief that because they’ve got a weapon and a free pass for twelve hours, they’re invincible.

Usually, they’re wrong.

“It’s fine,” you repeat with a tight smile, pointedly ignoring Natsuya’s scoff.

“No, I shouldn’t’ve–”

Whatever he’s about to say falls by the wayside as a loud, pounding suddenly reverberates through the house.

The front door.

For a long beat, nobody moves. Nobody breathes. Six pairs of eyes shift to the entry-way, towards the unknown figure waiting on the other side of the door.

Silence settles over the six of you, thick and uncomfortable, and undercurrent of tension pressing down on your body. Every door and window’s locked and reinforced behind steel shutters, they’re not impenetrable, though. Nothing is.

Abruptly, the banging resumes, so sudden that you jerk, flinching back against Natsuya’s frame.

“Pull up the security feed,” Suwabe suggests.

There’s a panel with a keypad on the wall by the kitchen, a few clicks of the buttons and the screen comes to life. Split across six sections, the cameras show a near 360 degree view of the exterior of the house. Natsuya taps on the upper left, bringing the view from the front of the house – the man battering down the door – full screen, the audio filtering through.

“–gonna kill me! You have to let me in! I promise I’m not armed, I swear it, just– help me, please!”

Your stomach flips.

“I–” you swallow, drawing in an unsteady breath.

The shock of black hair, the jagged scar cut like a bolt of lightning across his forehead, his eyes, one red, the other a milky white, wide and frantic now as he risks another look behind him – they’re not features you’re likely to forget any time soon. “I know him.”

You feel more than see the way that Natsuya tenses, pulling back to study you, a note of questioning in his eyes.

“He catches the same train home, we talk sometimes.” There’s more to it than that; a creep that tried to feel you up and Kakucho’s intervention, but you don’t feel like getting into that now.

Not when he’s hoarse and begging on Nats’ doorstep.

He hammers his fist against the shutters, strong enough that you swear you can feel the vibrations rattling in your chest. “He’s coming– fucking hell, please!”

Nobody says anything, uncomfortable glances shared between all six of you.

It’s an exercise in futility begging anyone for help on Purge night. He has to know that – everyone knows that.

And yet your heart’s lodged firmly in your throat, because it’s not just anyone at the door. It’s not a stranger begging for mercy, for sanctuary, it’s Kakucho.

Kakucho, who stood up for you.

Kakucho, who took the seat next to yours for weeks before he so much as said a word to you.

Kakucho, who looks half crazed – terrified – pleading for his life.

You barely know him, a kind act and a few conversations on your nighttime commute doesn’t make him a saint, doesn’t mean you have any sort of deeper relationship or trust built between you, but…

“Nats,” you breathe, your hand seeking his. His palm’s warm, engulfing yours, and you squeeze it, “I know him.”

It isn’t a plea, not quite.

“Dude, are you crazy? You can’t let him in!” Suwabe hisses, smacking his shoulder. “It sucks, but that’s what happens–”

Tomori‘s eyes flash. She folds her arms over her chest, shooting daggers his way, “So we throw him to the wolves? Just leave him to die?”

“Yeah; that’s the fucking Purge, Mori! He’s banging on your door ‘cause no one else’s stupid enough to let him in!”

“And if it was your friend and not some random stranger, you’re telling me you‘d leave him to the wolves rather than risk opening your door?”

Miyano, up until now silent, exhales, “She’s kind of got a point.”

“He’s not a friend though, she said it herself!” Suwabe snaps back, jabbing his finger in your direction. He turns to Ayumu, watching the argument unfold with a small frown. “Back me up here, dude, you know I’m right.”

The blond shifts on his feet, fingers tapping an uneasy rhythm against his drink as his gaze flickers between you and Natsuya. And all the while, the pounding outside continues, furious and desperate, layered beneath Kakucho’s shouts. You’re half convinced that any second now, that door’s gonna give way, and your stomach churns. You feel sick.

He’s a mere step above a stranger; an acquaintance at best. Suwabe isn’t wrong, either. This is Purge, this is what happens. Those who don’t have the means to protect themselves either learn to fight back or pay the price. There’s no helping that and it’s naive to think otherwise.

Right now you’re safe. Barring an all out assault, you’ll remain that way for the rest of the night.

The smart thing to do would be to hunker down and pretend the world outside the front door doesn’t exist for the next however many hours. That was the plan. That’s always the plan for the Purge.

Even the harmless looking ones pose a threat tonight. Kakucho, with his stature and scowl, the scar and those frighteningly intense eyes, never struck you as all that harmless.

So you don’t blame Suwabe for his reticence. You can’t. The smart, rational choice here is as cold and brutal as it is simple; you keep the door locked.

Yet your hand tightens around Natsuya’s, anchoring yourself in the touch as Ayumu’s eyes flit across yours, considering.

You won’t beg, you won’t, but–

“It’s your house,” he eventually says, more to Natusya than you. A shrugs then, sliding his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “There’s six of us, we’ve got guns if he tries anything.”

Something looses inside of you, a shuddering breath filling your lungs.

Natsuya doesn’t look particularly thrilled judging from the clenched muscle in his jaw, the crease between his brows. One glance at Tomori, though, her lovely face set is a mask of determination and that resolve of his weakens.

And shatters entirely.

“Fine. Fucking– fine. Let him in; 4869.”

He snatches the shotgun off the table as he says it, drawing you back into his side whilst Miyano – the closest to the door – punches in the code. Suwabe, meanwhile, disappears from the room, reappearing a moment later with a gun in hand.

Sliding himself into position between Tomori and the door, he cocks the slide with a grim expression. He locks eyes with you – only for a heartbeat – and you find yourself wanting to blurt out that the guns aren’t necessary, that Kakucho isn’t a threat.

You don’t, though, tongue leaden in your mouth, and he nudges her back as his attention shifts to the door.

In your ear, low enough that the others won’t hear, Natsuya murmurs, “You don’t leave my side, understand?”

You nod.

With a heavy clank, the shutters begin to lift.

Your fingers dance by your side, your insides in knots. Inch by inch it goes until finally, Miyano unlocks the door, pulls it open and Kakucho barrels in.

No one breathes. No one moves as he rights himself, bleeding, panting.

“Shut the fucking door,” he rasps, and like that, whatever spell everyone’s under is broken and both Suwabe and Miyano snap into action to close off the house once more.

And all the while you simply stare, blinking, unsure of what you’re supposed to say or do right now. Kakucho’s eyes shift around the room, slowly considering each of your friends, tasking them in one after the other, Suwabe’s gun, Natsuya’s, until at last, his eyes fall on you.

Recognition glints. Surprise. His head tilts, almost puppy-ish, brows drawing together. He murmurs your name in that deep, gravelly rumble, and Natsuya goes rigid.

It’s an instinctual response, you think, because a breath later his thumb rubs soothingly at your hip, slow and gentle, a quiet apology for brutish behaviour. Everyone’s on edge tonight.

And once again, it falls to Tomori to break the tension.

“Are you hurt? You look like hell.”

Kakucho doesn’t answer her immediately, his attention lingering on you for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Long enough that you have to fight the urge to fidget. Eventually, though, he grunts and shakes his head, turning his head to face her. “It’s nothing. I‘m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” she presses, as gently as she can.

Dazedly, he lifts his hand to his face, fingers finding the gash on his cheek. They come away wet and shining, glistening with his own blood – he stares at it, almost confused. “It’s… nothing,” he repeats, slower this time.

Tomori rolls her eyes, huffs in a way that’s so similar to Natsuya that under other circumstances you might have laughed. “What is it with men and their bullshit need to act tough all the time?”

None of them, not even Miyano has anything to say to that, and despite the heavy tension still hanging in the air, a wry grin pulls at your lips.

It only lasts a moment.

“You guys have a first aid kit, yeah?” Ayumu asks, to which both Tomori and your boyfriend nod.

“In the kitchen, the shelf above the fridge.”

And like that, the boys begin to disperse. Ayumu to fetch the kit, Miyano water and alcohol. Suwabe sticks by Tomori’s side, and when she mentions something about towels for the blood, he follows her out into the hallway. You suspect it’s more to give you a moment with Kakucho – or to escape the thick, awkward atmosphere – but you’re grateful all the same.

With the others gone, Kakucho’s attention turns back to you. Says nothing as you approach, Natsuya trailing right behind you, watching the two of you carefully.

Tomori hadn’t been wrong. Tough act or not, he has to be in pain. Split lip, knuckles grazed and reddened. The gash on his cheek, and blood seeping from a cut on his brow. Mottled bruises darkening his skin. Even his gait is off, his left leg supporting the majority of his weight. You’ve never seen the aftermath of a beating like this before. They hadn’t even let you see your own brother after they’d found him.

It twists at something inside of you, sends a pang right through your heart. He has to be hurting, yet Kakucho wears the damage like it’s nothing.

There’s a strange urge – one you steadfastly ignore – to reach out and take his ruined cheek in hand. To see someone in pain, hiding it… you might not be friends exactly, but a lump forms in your throat, your chest tightening. You’ve never felt so uselessly inadequate.

You sigh, eyes searching his, “What happened to you?”

“Let him sit down first, babe,” your boyfriend mutters.

Kakucho regards him warily. He’s still holding the shotgun, admittedly by his side, his other hand moving to your shoulder.

A clear message, and you don’t know how you feel about that.

In any case, your cheeks warm, a sheepish laugh – one without much humour – leaving your lips. You’re doing this all wrong. Stupid, stupid. “Of course, it’s probably better if we do this at the table, right?” you ask no one in particular. “Can you walk over or do you need somebody to lean on?”

A faint frown mars his face, “I said I’m fine.” Again, there’s no heat in the statement, the words are dull, robotic almost.

The others are returning now, Ayumu blowing his blond locks away from his face as he sets the first aid kit down on the table and pops it open. Yet surprisingly it’s Suwabe who pipes up, “Stop being an asshole, she’s just trying to help.”

Well, maybe not that surprising.

You repress another sigh, shaking off Natsuya’s grip to go and help him, Ayumu clearly having the same thought, when the doorbell rings.

You freeze.

No one dares to breathe, each of you slowly turning to face the door, still locked behind those steel shutters.

The doorbell rings again, twice in quick succession.

You hear someone quietly whisper, “Fuck.”

Cold dread sluices through your system, every pound of your heart echoing in your ear as Natsuya chokes on his spit, glances to Miyano.

And all eyes shift to the security screen. Tomori’s closest this time, Suwabe’s quick to grab her, pull her back as he instead brings the feed to life. Another tap, and the exterior front door once again fills the screen.

Your heart, pounding so violently in your chest that it feels like you’re going to be sick, constricts.

A blond man with striking – deeply unsettling – violet eyes stands at the doorstep, smiling directly into the camera. He’s not much older than you, less than five or so years you’d guess, dressed in an elegant, brocaded red coat.

“I’m assuming I have your attention,” he begins. His voice is pleasant and smooth, it sends shivers down your spine, the warmth leaching from your blood.

He waits a beat, still smiling that chilling, awful smile. “Good. Excellent. As I have no intention of wasting my time on this precious Purge night, I’ll make this brief. Nice and simple for you; it’s come to my attention that you’re harbouring something that belongs to me.” You hear Tomori’s breath catch, and hers aren’t the only pair of eyes that shift to Kakucho. “The man – the dog – you’ve inexplicably given sanctuary to tonight is nothing but filth. A defiler. A killer. A menace to our just society, and like all dogs, he must be brought to heel.”

His teeth, straight and white, glint as his grin widens. You can’t breathe, Natsuya’s hand finding yours, tightening wordlessly. You can feel the tension shift in the room, the fear that descends like a blanket at his words. But you know Kakucho, he’s wouldn’t– he’s not–

“By offering him sanctuary, by standing between me and what is rightfully mine, you’ve aligned yourself with those to be Purged. So, again, I’ll make this clear. You may think that behind this security system of yours, you’re safe. That the locks on your doors and steel shutters will keep me out – that is a lie you’ve been sold. I am coming in, it might take five minutes, maybe twenty, but these defences will fall. And if the dog inside hasn’t ripped you all to pieces, rest assured that I will. I suggest you good folks run. Hide. You cannot keep me from what I want.”

Abruptly the screen goes black, and no less than a split second later, the power in the house cuts out, plunging you into an eerie green-lit dimness as the sole emergency light flickers on.

The sound of your shaking breath feels too loud in the dead stillness. You swallow, and slowly turn to face Kakucho.

A defiler and a killer, the smiling man had said.

Those things can’t be true, because the Kakucho you know…

He meets your stare. Cold and empty, and that racing, trembling heart of your sinks into the very pit of your stomach. “K-kakucho?”

Two guns lift, Natsuya yanking you back, and in the space of a breath, everything goes to hell. Ayumu’s closest, had gone over to help, and quicker than your eyes can follow, Kakucho lunges forward, a knife appearing in his hand.

One moment, your friend, with that quiet, dry humour and a heart of absolute gold, is standing, the next – Kakucho’s knife is at his throat, and he’s being yanked backwards. “Put the guns down,” he says.

Like his expression, his voice is cold and flat.

Neither Natsuya nor Suwabe make a move to lower their weapons, Suwabe teeth bared in a silent snarl.

“Just do what he says, for fuck’s sake!” Miyano hisses, and you’re not imagining the panic lacing his tone.

The corner of Kakucho’s lips curl, “However fast you think you can shoot, I can guarantee you it won’t be quick enough. Put them down. On the floor.”

“Kakucho, please…”

He doesn’t so much as spare you a glance. Natsuya’s hand tightens, a silent plea for you to keep quiet, and not draw his attention.

“Do what he says.” It’s Ayumu, his voice a hoarse whisper. Wide eyed, shaking, the knife at his throat pressed so tightly that the movement of his vocal chords causes skin to break, a thin line of blood beading across his neck. “Please.”

“I am not–”

“Do what he fucking says, Suwabe!”

A long silence settles, neither making a move, unwilling to give an inch despite their friend’s desperate plea. And perhaps the terror in the blond’s voice finally breaks through to them, or the cool, detached ruthlessness of Kakucho’s demeanour, but with a heavy reluctance, the two lower their weapons.

“On the floor,” Kakucho repeats, pressing the blade tighter against Ayumu’s throat. “I’m not asking.”

Suwabe snarls, dropping the pistol. A moment later Natsuya follows suit, the both of them glaring at the larger man.

Kakucho smirks. Glances at you.

A defiler, the smiling man had called him. A killer.

And too quickly for anyone to stop him, he yanks the knife across Ayumu’s throat and shoves him aside. There’s a ringing in your ears as Tomori screams, Suwabe falling to his knees, scrambling for his discarded gun. Too slow. Kakucho’s sprinting – unhindered by his supposed ‘injured’ foot – disappearing into the darkness of the house, and Ayumu’s bleeding out on the floor.

Gaping and gasping, twitching like a fish out of water.

You can’t move, can’t hear a thing but the pounding of your pulse in your ears as you stare into his eyes. There’s so much blood, more and more spraying with every dying beat of his heart, pooling beneath his body, splattering the walls, the furniture, everything. And you can’t move.

Ayumu, glasses knocked askew, pretty blond locks falling into his eyes, chokes and gurgles, a trembling, bloody hand stretching out for help – and you can’t do a thing.

No one can.

And just as Miyano jolts out of his stupor and lunges for him, Ayumu’s body falls slack.

The light in his eyes fading away into nothingness.

Dead.

Suwabe screams, fires two shots blindly down the hallway, howling in rage and agony. Natsuya grips you so tight that it cuts off your circulation, his own eyes wide and horrified, taking in the carnage before him. Tomori lets out a keening sob, and the shutters on the front door screech ominously, as if to remind you all that there are bigger problems at hand.

There’s no time for grief. There’s a killer in the house, another forcing his way inside. Five of you left, two guns, and another ten or so hours until all of this can be over.

And suddenly Natsuya’s in front of you, grabbing your face in both hands and forcing you to look at him. You blink dazedly, trying in vain to focus as he speaks to you.

“–bathroom, lock the fucking door and do not open it until I come back, you understand?”

You blink again, eyes sliding back at Ayumu. His eyes are open, gazing at nothing, empty, empty, empty–

Your fault.

He’d told them it was okay. They had guns so it’d be okay, but you were the one–

“Listen to me!” Natsuya hisses, yanking your attention back to him. “I need you safe, so take Tomori and lock yourself in the bathroom right now. You don’t open that door no matter what, not ‘til I come back and tell you it’s safe, do you understand me?”

You find yourself nodding, a short jerking movement.

It’s enough for Natsuya, who presses a quick, desperate kiss to the crown of your head and takes you to Tomori. She grips your hand tight and the two of you disappear into the bathroom, one last glance at the three of them, grim faced and vengeful, gathering their weapons under the green glow before the doors shut, and you click the lock into place.

The two of you sit in the darkness, Tomori’s arm around your shoulders, sniffling into your shoulder as you wait.

You hold her, a hand running up and down her spine, tears of your own spilling down your cheeks.

Your fault, your fault, your fault. All of this is your fault.

Tomori flinches with every noise, every muffled thump. There’s a deafening bang somewhere on the floor above you – a gunshot maybe, or something falling, it’s hard to tell.

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, clutching her closer as she whimpers – the only reassurance you can bring yourself to give her. “It’s okay.”

How could this happen, you think numbly. For months now, you’ve sat next to a murderer, talked with him. Laughed with him.

You thought him a protector. A friend, even.

And you all but begged them to let him inside.

Ayumu’s blood’s on your hands. You might all die here tonight and it’s entirely your fault.

‘I know him,’ you’d told them. ‘I know him, and it’s okay.’

The look he’d given you, that smirk. Like he knew every thought that was running through your head. Like none of this was accidental, but the pieces of a puzzle falling slowly into place.

A defiler.

Bile creeps up your throat, and it occurs to you that death might not be the only thing waiting for you and Tomori if Kakucho finds you.

The tears fall quicker, and you close your eyes and bite down on your quivering bottom lip.

Locked away in the darkness, time crawls by. Minutes, maybe, or hours – there’s no way of knowing how much time has passed when you hear the tell tale sound of metal groaning, the splintering of wood. Tomori moans in despair, sobbing uncontrollably now as the front door gives way.

“It’s fine,” you soothe, “It’s okay.”

It’s a lie, because while the others – if they’re still alive (they have to be alive, they have to be) – are distracted with Kakucho, all that’s between you and the smiling intruder is a locked door.

Far less indestructible than the one he just broke through.

And soft as they may be, you hear the footsteps echoing off the wooden floorboards as the intruder leisurely makes his way down the hall. Closer and closer. Desperately, you try to quiet Tomori, but it makes no difference. He comes to a stop on the other side of the door.

Bringing a hand to your mouth, you bite down on the back of your palm in an effort to stifle your breathing. Tomori cringes.

When the door opens, you’ll attack, you decide. Go for the eyes, or knee him in the crotch – anything to give Mori a chance to run.

A heavy, pregnant pause, and then–

“I know you’re in there. Hiding away while your friends are getting hacked to pieces.” You can’t see it, but you know he’s smiling, grinning on the other side of the door. You can hear it in his voice. And you hate him, hate him even as paralysing fear claws its way through you, keeping you rooted in place. “That’s fine, I don’t mind. You can stay there for a little while longer, I still have one last thing to take care of, and then we can have some fun, no?”

He laughs then, light and boyish, as if this is nothing more than a game. To him, perhaps it isn’t.

“I’ll see you soon.”

In any case, his footsteps recede, and you’re left sitting in the darkness alone with your fear once more.

The thumping upstairs grows louder. There’s a crash and more yelling, a series of gunshots.

And then the screaming starts. Awful, bloodcurdling howls that have every hair on your body standing on end. Your stomach roils, what little you’d eaten earlier forcing its way back up your throat as you retch into the toilet, shaking and pale.

“We’re gonna die here, aren’t we?” Tomori whispers, and you can’t find the strength within yourself to try and convince her otherwise. If you survive this, those screams won’t ever leave you. You’ll wake in the middle of the night, gasping for air, unable to shake them.

“I don’t know.”

Silence, when it falls, feels like a death knell.

And then come the footsteps. You wait with bated breath, praying that it’s Natsuya. Miyano. Even Suwabe. Any of your friends.

A knock; the sound ricocheting through you. “Love, are you gonna open the door for me?”

Tomori wails like a banshee, broken and agonised, and you feel that little, tiny spark of hope you’d kept deep within your chest wink out.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her, kissing her hair as you hold her close. “I’m so sorry, Mori.”

And as the door shudders under the force of a kick, you hold her close and pray for a quick end. Another kick, and the wood splinters.

A third, and it breaks open entirely.

That eerie, green light floods the bathroom, the blond man stepping inside. He smiles at you, blood flecked across his face. The blood of your friends. Natsuya’s maybe.

“Ah, I thought there was one missing. She’s in here,” he calls out, glancing over his shoulder.

For a heartbeat, confusion flickers beneath the terror. Did he bring others with him? Maybe that’s how he broke in so quickly, maybe there’s a whole gang of them.

Your unspoken question, however, is answered when another figure steps into the bathroom behind him.

“She won’t be a problem.”

Your blood turns to ice.

Kakucho. Tall, broad and looming, he surveys the two of you with interest, his gaze lingering on you. “Are you gonna come quietly or am I gonna have to drag you out?” he asks, a single eyebrow raised.

To your credit, you try to stand. You might not be brave, but you’re not suicidal either. If there’s any chance that compliance gets you or Tomori out of here, even if these monsters killed Natsuya and the others, you’ll do what they ask.

Yet your legs are shaking so bad that you barely make it to your feet before they give out beneath you. Kakucho tuts, sighing heavily – and sweeps in to lift you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing at all, paying no mind to the way that you flinch and shudder.

The blond pads out behind you as Kakucho carries you back into the living room.

You’re half expecting to be shoved to your knees, the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of your head, but Kakucho sets you down gently on the couch, pats the top of your head twice before retreating back to the bathroom.

The blond stays behind, those violet eyes a sickly colour under the green glow fixated curiously on you. Your hands are shaking in your lap as he draws closer.

“I bought you something,” he says.

You frown, tongue darting out to wet your lips as you mumble, “W-what?”

From the pocket he pulls out a velvet box, pressing into your hands as he settles down beside you. “Open it.”

Swallowing tightly, you fumble with the lid for a moment – until he sighs and takes it back from you, popping it open and handing it right back to you.

And you don’t understand when you take it back, because nestled into the white pillow is a necklace with a pendant, a hanafuda design, matching the earrings dangling from his lobes.

“Well? Are you going to put it on?” he asks, just as Kakucho returns with a squirming Tomori. Yet rather than setting her down the couch as he had with you, he drops her carelessly onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and retreats again – this time back towards the stairs.

You start to rise with the intention of helping her, only to be stopped by an iron grip around your wrist. “If you get up from this couch, I’ll put a bullet through her brain right here and now, do you understand?”

He says it so mildly, the threat takes a second to register.

When it does, though, you nod shakily and fall back to your seat. He smiles again, a mirthful twinkle in his eyes. “Good girl.” He pats your knee, “Now, put it on for me.”

Casting a quick glance to Tomori, prone and near catatonic on the floor, you do as he bids, lifting the thing chain from the box. It’s long enough for you to slip it over your head without having to fiddle with the clasp – a good thing, seeing as your fine motor skills seem to have abandoned you in your terror. The pendant falls between your breasts, which the blond man takes a good, long moment to admire.

“Suits you,” is all he says as Kakucho returns once more.

And drops another body on the floor.

Your heart seizes in your chest as it moves. Groans and lifts his head, blinking to adjust to the dim light.

“Nats–” you cry, and forgetting the blond at your side you go to rise once more. This time he snarls, quiet and vicious, seizing your shoulder and forcing you back down.

“Don’t. Be. Rude.”

You draw in a shallow breath, hope and despair warring inside of you as you glance from Natsuya to Kakucho, who manhandles him onto his knees. His face is bruised and bloody, a dark, wet-looking patch you can only assume to be blood seeping from one of his thighs.

He’s alive, though. Put through the wringer but alive.

You almost sob.

Beside him, Tomori’s also being raised to her knees, the dead look in her eyes fading somewhat as she takes in the sight of her brother.

Your gut clenches.

Both of them are facing you, Kakucho looming threateningly behind them. Despite the momentary joy, this isn’t a happy reunion.

The blond at your side hums, leaning in close. With a delicate touch, he sweeps back a lock of hair, tucking it behind your ear. The hand on your knee drifts higher, grazing along the inside of your thigh.

“You get a choice, think of it as… a going away present,” he says. The warmth of his breath fans across your skin, his hand now slipping beneath your skirt. You shudder, trying to blink back the hot tears that well up in your eyes. You refuse to cry in front of him, you refuse to give him the satisfaction. Amusement and something like glee dances across his face, “One of them dies now; quick and relatively painless. The other…” his fingers brush the seat of your underwear, his tongue darting out to lick at the stray tear that slips from your lashes. His voice dips, “The other gets to watch while the three of us have our fun tonight.”

Natsuya snarls, only for Kakucho to kick him back to the ground and keep him there with a foot on his back.

“And a-afterwards?” you force the words out.

“Afterwards, Kakucho’s going to beat the other one to death with his bare fucking fists. I wasn’t lying when I told you he was violent,” his lips brush your cheek, featherlight and gentle, “I wasn’t lying about any of it.”

You look to Kakucho then, his eyes bearing down on you with a hunger he doesn’t bother to hide. An obsession.

All those nights, sitting on the train next to him. All the stupid, meaningless conversations you’d had, the night he’d damn near knocked the lights out of that creep. The way he’d begged on the doorstep, and the smirk when his ruse was discovered.

Lies, all of it lies.

You draw in a shaky breath and close your eyes, hands tightening into fists by your lap.

“So tell me, love,” he continues, fingers once again teasing at your panties. “Which one goes first?”

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere izana #yandere izana x reader #yandere kakucho #yandere kakucho x reader #yandere kurokawa izana x reader #yandere kurokawa izana #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #more implied than anything else but #to be on the safe side

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